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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



SIR WALTER SCOTT’S 

I VA N H O E 


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SIR WALTER SCOTT’S 

11 

IVANHOE 

ABRIDGED BY 

HERBERT P. WILLIAMS 



ILLUSTRATED 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK AND LONDON: 1910 


Copyright, 1910, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published September^ 1910 



©CI.A271853 


DEDICATION 


My dear E. : 

A long time ago there lived on the banks of the Tweed 
a jolly and companionable Scottish gentleman, who wrote 
some of the best stories in our language. He was kindly 
and lovable always, and brave and noble in misfortune; 
and he was such a fine fellow that everybody was glad and 
proud to be in his company. There in the study of his 
beautiful mansion of Abbotsford, which you and I will 
visit when you are older, this Walter Scott — he was not 
Sir Walter then — wrote, almost eighty years before you 
were born, one of the most delightful romances in the 
world, and called it Ivanhoe.^^ Three years later he 
wrote the liveliest and most stirring adventure story that 
ever was, telling how a high-spirited and manly young 
fellow from Scotland, one Quentin Durward, won his 
spurs in France in 1468. Still later he wrote one of the 
prettiest stories of love and mystery, of unfailing courage 
and true devotion, telling what part the famous Talisman 
played in King Richard’s warfare in the Holy Land 
against the princely Saladin. 

He wrote these books for grown people; but because 
they are such fine stories, and so interesting and fascinat- 
ing — because, in short, they are more entertaining than 
almost any other books ever written — ^boys and girls have 


V 


VI 


DEDICATION* 


always relished them immensely. You will miss a lot 
of fun if you don’t read them. And there is another thing 
about these books, E. They are not simply capital stories, 
thrilling and absorbing from beginning to end. They 
amount to something, these tales of chivalry; they have 
character; they are liter^ure; and you will be glad all 
your life of having read them. 

When I was a boy, children played ^^Ivanhoe.” We 
had read it so often that we knew pages of it by heart, 
especially those telling how the mysterious Disinherited 
Knight overthrew the haughty Templar in the Tourna- 
ment at Ashby, and how the equally mysterious Black 
Knight bore himself at the storming of Torquilstone ; and 
we quoted these passages to each other in our play. Also, 
we knew how Quentin Durward saved the Lady Isabelle of 
Croye, on that wild night, when Schonwaldt was stormed 
and captured by William de la Marck and the discontented 
people of Liege ; and how it fared with the gallant Sir Ken- 
neth of Scotland during the night when he was set to 
watch and protect the banner of England on St. George’s 
Mount. 

But way back in the Eighteen-twenties, when Ivanhoe ” 
was first published, people had much more leisure than they 
have now. Kobody could ever have been in a hurry in those 
days, it would seem, else they would not have had time to 
read such long-winded books as they did read. People are 
busier nowadays; and this is especially true of you chil- 
dren, who learn so much more, both in school and out, 
than your great-grandparents learned. You don’t want to 
read the long historical descriptions in Ivanhoe” or 


DEDICATION- 


vii 


Quentin Durward or The Talisman/^ Perhaps you 
will read them when you are older; but they get in the 
way of the story^ and the story is what we want, isnT it? 

So I have made these books for you, in the hope that 
you will enjoy them. I have left out the accounts of the 
history of the reign of King Eichard the Lion-hearted, who 
was one of the bravest and manliest kings that England 
ever had, and whose acquaintance you will make in the 
happiest way in these hooks; and descriptions of the state 
of things in Prance in the reign of Louis XI, who was 
unscrupulous and tricky, as you will find in Quentin 
Durward,*^ but likable in a way for his cleverness in man- 
aging men and things. Also, I have omitted or cut down 
essays on the way people thought and felt in those days; 
and when the author took several pages to tell about some- 
body’s clothes, I thought you would be satisfied with a 
briefer account. But I have left all of each story there 
— every bit of it — just as Scott wrote it, except that I 
have translated foreign words and phrases; and you 
won’t have to skip, and you won’t have to wade through 
dull passages. In a word, I have merely shortened these 
books for the greater delight of you and other children 
of the present day. 


New York, N. Y., 
July 18, 1910. 


H. P. W. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Gurth and Wamba 1 

II. — The Prior and the Templar Seek a Night^s 

Lodging 7 

III. — Cedric the Saxon at Home 17 

IV. — Place for the Ladt Kowena!" ... 23 

V. — Second to None ! 29 

VI. — The Palmer Aids the Jew^s Escape ... 37 

VII. — The Lists at Ashby 49 

VIII. — The First Day of the Tournament ... 57 

IX. — The Disinherited Knight Names the Queen 

OF Love and Beauty 68 

X. — How Gurth Paid Isaac for the Armor . . 78 

XI. — Gurth and the Outlaws 88 

XII. — The Second Day of the Tournament . . 97 

XIII. — The Prize for Archery 110 

XIV. — ''To Get Me a Wife!'' 120 

XV. — A Miraculous Hermitage 129 

XVI.— "A White Dragon!" 143 

XVII. — Locksley to the Rescue 154 

XVIH. — "What Mummery is This?" 161 


IX 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIX. — A Thousand Pounds of Silver .... 167 

XX. — Hov/ De Bracy Made Love 173 

XXI. — The Jewess and the Templar .... 178 
XXII. — A Formal Letter of Defiance .... 184 

XXIII. — Peace be With You^’ 194 

XXIV. — To THE Battlements ! 202 

XXV. — The First Assault 215 

XXVI. — The Second Assault 227 

XXVII. — Parting the Spoil 246 

XXVIII. — The Ransom of the Prior and the Jew . 259 

XXIX. — The Trial of Rebecca 269 

XXX.— Have We Traitors Here?” 287 

XXXI. — Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest .... 301 

XXXII. — Athelstane^s Obsequies 308 

XXXIII. — The Lists of Templestowe 320 

XXXIV. — Rebecca and Rowena 334 


LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS 


FACING 

PAGE 

^^Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visoF^ 

Frontispiece 

^One foot nearer, and I plunge myself from the preci- 
pice^ .182 

^^These two champions were fighting hand to hand^^ . . 238 


^Rise, my friends/ said Richard” 


298 



IVANHOE 


CHAPTER I 

GURTH AND WAMBA 

In that pleasant district of merry England which is 
watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient 
times a large forest, covering the greater part of the 
beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield 
and the pleasant town of Doncaster. Such being our 
chief scene, the date of our story refers to a period 
towards the end of the reign of Richard I., whon his 
return from his long captivity had become an event 
rather wished than hoped for by his despairing sub- 
jects. 

The sun was setting upon one of the rich, grassy 
glades of the forest. Hundreds of broad-headed, short- 
stemmed, wide-branched oaks flung their gnarled arms 
over a thick carpet of the most delicious greensward. 
In some places they were intermingled with beeches, 
hollies, and copsewood of various descriptions, so closely 
as totally to intercept the level beams of the sinking 
sun; in others they receded from each other, forming 
long, sweeping vistas. 

The human figures which completed this landscape 
were in number two, partaking, in their dress and ap- 
pearance, of that wild and rustic character which be- 

1 


2 


IVANHOE 


longed to the woodlands of the West Riding of York- 
shire at that early period. The eldest of these men 
had a stern, savage, and wild aspect. His garment was 
of the simplest form imaginable, being a close jacket 
with sleeves, composed of the tanned skin of some ani- 
mal, which reached from the throat to the knees, and 
served at once all the usual purposes of body-clothing. 
Sandals, bound with thongs made of boar’s hide, pro- 
tected the feet, and a roll of thin leather was twined 
artificially round the legs, and, ascending above the 
calf, left the knees bare, like those of a Scottish High- 
lander. To make the jacket sit yet more close to the 
body, it was gathered at the middle by a broad leathern 
belt, secured by a brass buckle. The man had no cov- 
ering upon his head, which was defended only by his 
own thick hair, matted and twisted together, and 
scorched by the influence of the sun into a rusty, dark- 
red color. One part of his dress was a brass ring, 
resembling a dog’s collar, but without any opening, and 
soldered fast round his neck, so loose as to form no im- 
pediment to his breathing, yet so tight as to be inca- 
pable of being removed, excepting by the use of the file. 
On this singular gorget was engraved, in Saxon charac- 
ters, an inscription of the following purport; Gurth, 
the son of Beowulph, is the born thrall of Cedric of 
Rotherwood. ’ ’ 

Beside the swineherd, for such was Gurth ’s occupa- 
tion, was seated a person about ten years younger in 
appearance, and whose dress, though resembling his 
companion’s in form, was of better materials, and of a 
more fantastic description. His jacket had been stained 
a bright purple hue, upon which there had been some 
attempt to paint grotesque ornaments in different colors. 
He had thin silver bracelets upon his arms, and on his 


GURTH AND WAMBA 


3 


neck a collar of the same metal, bearing the inscription, 

Wamba, the son of Witless, is the thrall of Cedric of 
Rotherwood/’ This personage had the same sort of 
sandals with his companion, but instead of the roll of 
leather thong, his legs were cased in a sort of gaiters, 
of which one was red and the other yellow. He was 
provided also with a cap, having around it more than 
one bell, about the size of those attached to hawks, which 
jingled as he turned his head to one side or other. His 
half-crazed, half-cunning expression of countenance 
sufficiently pointed him out as belonging to the race of 
domestic clowns, or jesters, maintained in the houses of 
the wealthy, to help away the tedium of those lingering 
hours which they were obliged to spend within doors. 
He had neither horn nor knife, being probably consid- 
ered as belonging to a class whom it is esteemed dan- 
gerous to entrust with edge-tools. In place of these, he 
was equipped with a sword of lath. 

The demeanor of the serf, or bondsman, was sad and 
sullen; his aspect was bent on the ground with an air 
of deep dejection. The looks of Wamba, on the other 
hand, indicated a sort of vacant curiosity, and fidgety 
impatience of any posture of repose, together with the 
utmost self-satisfaction respecting his own situation and 
the appearance which he made. The dialogue which 
they maintained between them was carried on in Anglo- 
Saxon, which was universally spoken by the inferior 
classes, excepting the Norman soldiers and the immediate 
personal dependants of the great feudal nobles. 

The curse of St. Withold upon these infernal pork- 
ers! ’ ^ said the swineherd, after blowing his horn obstrep- 
erously, to collect together the scattered herd of swine, 
which, answering his call with notes equally melodious, 
made, however, no haste to remove themselves from the 


4 


IVANHOE 


luxurious banquet of beech-mast and acorns on which 
they had fattened. “ The curse of St. Withold upon 
them and upon me! said Gurth; “ if the two-legged 
wolf snap not up some of them ere nightfall, I am no 
true man. Here, Fangs, Fangs! he ejaculated at the 
top of his voice to a ragged, wolfish-looking dog, which 
ran limping about as if with the purpose of seconding 
his master in collecting the refractory grunters, but 
which, in fact, only drove them hither and thither. ‘ ‘ A 
devil draw the teeth of him,’’ said Gurth, ‘‘ and the 
mother of mischief confound the ranger of the forest, 
that cuts the fore-claws off our dogs, and makes them 
unfit for their trade! Wamba, up and help me an thou 
beest a man; take a turn round the back o’ the hill to 
gain the wind on them ; and when thou’st got the weather- 
gauge, thou may’st drive them before thee as gently as 
so many innocent lambs.” 

Truly,” said Wamba, without stirring from the spot, 
I have consulted my legs upon this matter, and they 
are altogether of opinion that to carry my gay garments 
through these sloughs would be an act of unfriendship 
to my sovereign person and royal wardrobe ; wherefore, 
Gurth, I advise thee to call off Fangs, and leave the herd 
to their destiny, which, whether they meet with bands of 
traveling soldiers, or of outlaws, or of wandering pil- 
grims, can be little else than to be converted into Nor- 
mans before morning, to thy no small ease and comfort. ’ ’ 
‘ ‘ The swine turned Normans to my comfort ! ’ ’ quoth 
Gurth; “ expound that to me, Wamba, for my brain is 
too dull and my mind too vexed to read riddles. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Why, how call you those grunting brutes running 
about on four legs? ” demanded Wamba. 

‘‘ Swine, fool, swine,” said the herd; every fool 
knows that. ’ ’ 


GURTH AND WAMBA 


5 


And swine is good Saxon/’ said the Jester; “ but 
how call you the sow when she is flayed, and drawn, and 
quartered, and hung up by the heels, like a traitor? ” 

^ ^ Pork, ’ ’ answered the swineherd. 

I am very glad every fool knows that too,” said 
■Wamba, ‘‘ and pork, I think, is good Norman-French; 
and so when the brute lives, and is in the charge of a 
Saxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name; but becomes 
a Norman, and is called pork, when she is carried to the 
castle hall to feast among the nobles. What dost thou 
think of this, friend Gurth, ha ? ” 

It is but too true doctrine, friend Wamba, however 
it got into thy fool’s pate.” 

Nay, I can tell you more,” said Wamba: there 

is old Alderman Ox continues to hold his Saxon epithet 
while he is under the charge of serfs and bondsmen such 
as thou, but becomes Beef, a fiery French gallant, when 
he arrives before the worshipful jaws that are destined 
to consume him. Mynherr Calf, too, becomes Monsieur 
de Veau in the like manner: he is Saxon when he re- 
quires tendance, and takes a Norman name when he 
becomes matter of enjoyment.” 

By St. Dunstan,” answered Gurth, thou speakest 
but sad truths ; little is left to us but the air we breathe, 
and that appears to have been reserved with much hesita- 
tion, solely for the purpose of enabling us to endure the 
tasks they lay upon our shoulders. God’s blessing on 
our Master Cedric, he hath done the work of a man in 
standing in the gap; but Eeginald Front-de-Boeuf is 
coming down to this country in person, and we shall soon 
see how little Cedric’s trouble will avail him. — Here, 
here,” he exclaimed again, raising his voice, So ho! so 
ho ! well done, Fangs 1 thou hast them all before thee now, 
and bring ’st them on bravely, lad.” 

2 


6 


IVANHOE 


" Gurth,” said the Jester, “ I know thou thinkest me a 
fool, or thou wouldst not be so rash in putting thy head 
into my mouth. One word to Reginald Front-de-Bceuf 
or Philip de Malvoisin, that thou hast spoken treason 
against the Norman — and thou art but a castaway swine- 
herd; thou wouldst waver on one of these trees as a 
terror to all evil speakers against dignities.” 

“ Dog, thou wouldst not betray me,” said Gurth, 
” after having led me on to speak so much at disad- 
vantage? ” 

‘‘ Betray thee! ” answered the Jester; “ no, that were 
the trick of a wise man ; a fool cannot half so well help 
himself. — But soft, whom have we here ? ” he said, lis- 
tening to the trampling of several horses which became 
then audible. 

” Never mind whom,” answered Gurth, who had now 
got his herd before him, and, with the aid of Pangs, was 
driving them down one of the long, dim vistas. 

‘‘ Nay, but I must see the riders,” answered Wamba; 
‘ ‘ perhaps they are come from Fairyland with a message 
from King Oberon.” 

” A murrain take thee! ” rejoined the swineherd; 
“ wilt thou talk of such things, while a terrible storm of 
thunder and lightning is raging within a few miles of us ! 
Thou canst play the rational if thou wilt ; credit me for 
once, and let us home ere the storm begins to rage, for 
the night will be fearful.” 

Wamba seemed to feel the force of this appeal, and 
accompanied his companion, who began his journey after 
catching up a long quarter-staff which lay upon the grass 
beside him. 


CHAPTER II 


THE PKIOR AND THE TEMPLAR SEEK A NIGHT 'S LODGING. 

The horsemen soon overtook them. Their numbers 
amounted to ten men, of whom the two who rode fore- 
most seemed to be persons of considerable importance, 
and the others their attendants. 

One of these personages was an ecclesiastic of high 
rank ; his dress was that of a Cistercian Monk, but com- 
posed of materials much finer than those which the rule 
of that order admitted. He rode upon a well-fed, am- 
bling mule, whose furniture was highly decorated, and 
whose bridle was ornamented with silver bells. A lay 
brother, one of those who followed in the train, had, for 
his use on other occasions, one of the most handsome 
Spanish jennets ever bred in Andalusia, which mer- 
chants used at that time to import, with great trouble 
and risk, for the use of persons of wealth and distinction. 

His companion was a man past forty, thin, strong, tall, 
and muscular; an athletic figure, in which long fatigue 
and constant exercise seemed to have left none of the 
softer part of the human form, having reduced the whole 
to brawn, bones, and sinews. High features, naturally 
strong and powerfully expressive, had been burnt almost 
into Negro blackness by constant exposure to the tropical 
sun. His keen, piercing, dark eyes told in every glance 
a history of difficulties subdued and dangers dared. 

The upper dress of this personage resembled that of 
his companion in shape, being a long monastic mantle. 

7 


8 


IVANHOE 


This upper robe concealed a shirt of linked mail, with 
sleeves and gloves of the same, curiously plaited and 
interwoven, as flexible to the body as those which are 
now wrought in the stocking-loom out of less obdurate 
materials. The fore-part of his thighs were also cov- 
ered with linked mail ; the knees and feet were defended 
by thin plates of steel, ingeniously jointed upon each 
other; and mail hose, reaching from the ankle to the 
knee, effectually protected the legs, and completed the 
rider’s defensive armor. 

He rode a strong hackney for the road, to save his 
gallant war-horse, which a squire led behind, fully ac- 
coutered for battle. A second squire held aloft his 
master’s lance, from the extremity of which fluttered a 
small banderole, or streamer. These two squires were 
followed by two attendants, whose dark visages, white 
turbans, and the Oriental form of their garments showed 
them to be natives of some distant Eastern country. 

This cavalcade attracted the curiosity of Wamba, and 
even that of his less volatile companion. The monk they 
instantly knew to be the Prior of Jorvaulx Abbey, well 
known for many miles around as a lover of the chase 
and the banquet. Our Saxon serfs made their rude 
obeisance, and received Prior Aymer’s ‘‘ Bless you, my 
children,” in return. 

But the singular appearance of his companion and his 
attendants arrested their attention and excited their 
wonder, and they could scarcely attend to the Prior of 
Jorvaulx ’s question, when he demanded if they knew 
of any place of harborage in the vicinity. 

“ I asked you, my children,” said the Prior, raising his 
voice, and using the lingua Franca, or mixed language, 
in which the Norman and Saxon races conversed with 
each other, if there be in this neighborhood any good 


THE PRIOR AND THE TEMPLAR 


9 


man who, for the love of God and devotion to Mother 
Church, will give two of her humblest servants, with 
their train, a night’s hospitality and refreshment? ” 

‘‘ If the reverend fathers,” said Wamba, loved good 
cheer and soft lodging, few miles of riding would carry 
them to the Priory of Brinxworth, where their quality 
could not but secure them the most honorable reception ; 
or, if they preferred spending a penitential evening, they 
might turn down yonder wild glade, which would bring 
them to the hermitage of Copmanhurst, where a pious 
anchoret would make them sharers for the night of the 
shelter of his roof and the benefit of his prayers.” 

The Prior shook his head at both proposals. 

Mine honest friend,” said he, if the jangling of 
thy bells had not dizzied thine understanding, thou 
mightst know that we churchmen do not exhaust each 
other’s hospitality, but rather require that of the laity, 
giving them thus an opportunity to serve God in honor- 
ing and relieving His appointed servants.” 

It is true,” replied Wamba, ‘‘ that I, being but an 
ass, am, nevertheless, honored to bear the bells as well as 
your reverence’s mule; notwithstanding, I did conceive 
that the charity of Mother Church and her servants might 
be said, with other charity, to begin at home.” 

A truce to thine insolence, fellow,” said the armed 
rider, breaking in on his prattle with a high aud stern 

voice, and tell us, if thou canst, the road to How 

call’d you your Franklin, Prior Aymer? ” 

Cedric,” answered the Prior; Cedric the Saxon. — 
Tell me, good fellow, are we near his dwelling, and 
can you show us the road ? ’ ’ 

The road will be uneasy to find,” answered Gurth, 
who broke silence for the first time, ‘ ‘ and the family of 
Cedric retire early to rest.” 


10 


IVANHOE 


Tush, tell not me, fellow! said the military rider; 

’tis easy for them to arise and supply the wants of 
travelers such as we are, who will not stoop to beg the 
hospitality which we have a right to command. ’ ’ 

I know not,’’ said Gurth, sullenly, ‘‘ if I should show 
the way to my master’s house to those who demand as a 
right the shelter which most are fain to ask as a favor.” 

‘‘ Do you dispute with me, slave! ” said the soldier; 
and, setting spurs to his horse, he caused him to make a 
demi-volte across the path, raising at the same time the 
riding rod which he held in his hand, with a purpose of 
chastising what he considered as the insolence of the 
peasant. 

Gurth darted at him a savage and revengeful scowl, 
and with a fierce yet hesitating motion laid his hand on 
the haft of his knife; but the interference of Prior 
Aymer, who pushed his mule betwixt his companion and 
the swineherd, prevented the meditated violence. 

^ ‘ Nay, by St. Mary, brother Brian, you must not think 
you are now in Palestine, predominating over heathen 
Turks and infidel Saracens. — Tell me, good fellow,” said 
he to Wamba, and seconded his speech by a small piece 
of silver coin, ‘‘the way to Cedric the Saxon’s; you 
cannot be ignorant of it, and it is your duty to direct 
the wanderer even when his character is less sanctified 
than ours.” 

“ In truth, venerable father,” answered the Jester, 
“ the Saracen head of your right reverend companion 
has frightened out of mine the way home ; I am not sure 
I shall get there to-night myself. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Tush, ’ ’ said the Abbot, ‘ ‘ thou canst tell us if thou 
wilt. This reverend brother has been all his life en- 
gaged in fighting among the Saracens for the recovery 
of the Holy Sepulcher; he is of the order of Knights 


THE PRIOR AND THE TEMPLAR 


11 


Templars, whom you may have heard of; he is half a 
monk, half a soldier. ’ ’ 

‘‘If he is but half a monk,” said the Jester, “ he 
should not be wholly unreasonable with those whom he 
meets upon the road, even if they should be in no hurry 
to answer questions that no way concern them. ’ ’ 

“ I forgive thy wit,” replied the Abbot, “ on condition 
thou wilt show me the way to Cedric’s mansion.” 

“ Well, then,” answered Wamba, “ your reverences 
must hold on this path till you come to a sunken cross, 
of which scarce a cubit’s length remains above ground; 
then take the path to the left, for there are four which 
meet at Sunken Cross, and I trust your reverences will 
obtain shelter before the storm comes on. ’ ’ 

The Abbot thanked his sage adviser; and the caval- 
cade, setting spurs to their horses, rode on as men do 
who wish to reach their inn before the bursting of a 
night-storm. 

As their horses’ hoofs died away, Gurth said to his 
companion, “ If they follow thy wise direction, the 
reverend fathers will hardly reach Eotherwood this 
night.” 

No,” said the Jester, grinning, but they may reach 
Sheffield if they have good luck, and that is as fit a place 
for them. I am not so bad a woodsman as to show the 
dog where the deer lies, if I have no mind he should 
chase him.” 

“ Thou art right,” said Gurth; it were ill for Ced- 
ric to quarrel, as is most likely he would, with this 
military monk. But, like good servants, let us hear and 
see, and say nothing.” 

We return to the riders, who had soon left the bonds- 
men far behind. What mean these fellows by their 
capricious insolence? ” said the Templar to the Cister- 


12 


IVANHOE 


cian, ‘‘ and why did you prevent me from chastising 
it? 

Marry, brother Brian, replied the Prior, touching 
the one of them, it were hard for me to render a reason 
for a fool speaking according to his folly ; and the other 
churl is of that savage, fierce, intractable race, some of 
w^hom are still to be found among the descendants of the 
conquered Saxons, and whose supreme pleasure it is to 
testify, by all means in their power, their aversion to 
their conquerors.’’ 

I would soon have beat him into courtesy,” observed 
Brian; I am accustomed to deal with such spirits. 
Our Turkish captives are as fierce and intractable as 
Odin himself could have been; yet two months in my 
household, under the management of my master of the 
slaves, has made them humble, submissive, serviceable, 
and observant of your will.” 

Aye, but,” answered Prior Aymer, every land has 
its own manners and fashions ; and, besides that beating 
this fellow could procure us no information respecting 
the road to Cedric’s house, it would have been sure to 
establish a quarrel betwixt you and him had we found 
our way thither. Eemember what I told you; this 
wealthy Franklin is proud, fierce, jealous, and irri- 
table, a withstander of the nobility, and even of his 
neighbors, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Philip Mal- 
voisin, who are no babes to strive with. He stands up 
so sternly for the privileges of his race, and is so proud 
of his uninterrupted descent from Hereward, that he is 
universally called Cedric the Saxon.” 

Prior Aymer,” said the Templar, you are a man 
of gallantry, learned in the study of beauty ; but I shall 
expect much beauty in this celebrated Rowena, to coun- 
ter-balance the self-denial and forbearance which I must 


THE PRIOR AND THE TEMPLAR 


13 


exert if I am to court the favor of such a seditious churl 
as you have described her father Cedric.’’ 

Cedric is not her father,” replied the Prior, and 
is but of remote relation; she is descended from higher 
blood than even he pretends to. Her guardian, however, 
he is, self-constituted as I believe ; but his ward is as dear 
to him as if she were his own child. Of her beauty you 
shall soon be judge.” 

Should your boasted beauty,” said the Templar, 
“ be weighed in the balance and found wanting, you 
know our wager? ” 

My gold collar,” answered the Prior, against ten 
butts of Chian wine ; — they are mine as securely as if 
they were already in the convent vaults, under the key 
of old Dennis, the cellarer. ’ ’ 

‘‘ And I am myself to be judge,” said the Templar, 
‘‘ and I am only to be convicted on my own admission 
that I have seen no maiden so beautiful since Pentecost 
was a twelve-month. Ran it not so ? — Prior, your col- 
lar is in danger; I will wear it over my gorget in the 
lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. ” 

‘‘ Win it fairly,” said the Prior, “ and wear it as ye 
will; I will trust your giving true response, on your 
word as a knight and as a churchman. Yet, brother, 
take my advice, and file your tongue to a little more 
courtesy than your habits of predominating over infidel 
captives and Eastern bondsmen have accustomed you. 
Cedric the Saxon, if offended — and he is no way slack 
in taking offense — is a man who, without respect to your 
knighthood, my high office, or the sanctity of either, 
would clear his house of us, and send us to lodge with 
the larks, though the hour were midnight. And be care- 
ful how you look on Rowena, whom he cherishes with the 
most jealous care. It is said he banished his only son 


14 


IVANHOE 


from his family for lifting his eyes in the way of affec- 
tion towards this beauty.’’ 

“ Well, you have said enough,” answered the Tem- 
plar; “ I will for a night put on the needful restraint, 
and deport me as meekly as a maiden; but as for the 
fear of his expelling us by violence, myself and squires, 
with Hamet and Abdalla, will warrant you against that 
disgrace. Doubt not that we shall be strong enough 
to make good our quarters.” 

‘‘We must not let it come so far,” answered the Prior. 
“ But here is the clown’s sunken cross, and the night is 
so dark that we can hardly see which of the roads we 
are to follow. He bid us turn, I think, to the left. ’ ’ 

“ To the right,” said Brian, “ to the best of my re- 
membrance. ’ ’ 

“ To the left — certainly the left; I remember his 
pointing with his wooden sword.” 

“ Aye, but he held his sword in his left hand, and so 
pointed across his body with it,” said the Templar. 
‘ ‘ Here is some one either asleep or lying dead at the foot 
of this cross — Hugo, stir him with the butt-end of thy 
lance.” 

This was no sooner done than the figure arose, ex- 
claiming in good French, “ Whosoever thou art, it is 
discourteous in you to disturb my thoughts.” 

“ We did but wish to ask you,” said the Prior, “ the 
road to Rotherwood, the abode of Cedric the Saxon.” 

“ I myself am bound thither,” replied the stranger; 
“ and if I had a horse I would be your guide, for the 
way is somewhat intricate.” 

“ Thou shalt have both thanks and reward, my 
friend,” said the Prior, “ if thou wilt bring us to Ced- 
ric’s in safety.” 

And he caused one of his attendants to mount his own 


THE PRIOR AND THE TEMPLAR 


15 


led horse, and give that upon which he had hitherto rid- 
den to the stranger. 

Their conductor pursued an opposite road from that 
which Wamba had recommended. The path soon led 
deeper into the woodland, and crossed more than one 
brook, the approach to which was rendered perilous by 
the marshes through which it flowed; but the stranger 
brought the party safely into a wider avenue than any 
they had yet seen; and, pointing to a large, low, irreg- 
ular building at the upper extremity, he said to the 
Prior, Yonder is Eotherwood, the dwelling of Cedric 
the Saxon.’’ 

This was a joyful intimation to Aymer, whose nerves 
were none of the strongest. Finding himself now at his 
ease and near shelter, his curiosity began to awake, and 
he demanded of the guide who and what he was. 

‘‘ A Palmer, just returned from the Holy Land,” was 
the answer. ^ 

You had better have tarried there to fight for the 
recovery of the Holy Sepulcher,” said the Templar. 

True, Eeverend Sir Knight,” answered the Palmer, 
to whom the appearance of the Templar seemed perfectly 
familiar ; ^ ^ but when those who are under oath to recover 
the holy city are found traveling at such a distance from 
the scene of their duties, can you wonder that a peaceful 
peasant like me should decline the task which they have 
abandoned? ” 

The Templar would have made an angry reply, but 
was interrupted by the Prior, who expressed his as- 
tonishment that their guide, after such long absence, 
should be so perfectly acquainted with the passes of the 
forest. 

I was born a native of these parts,” answered their 
guide, and as he made the reply they stood before the 


16 


IVANHOE 


mansion of Cedric — a low, irregular building, contain- 
ing several courtyards or inclosures, extending over a 
considerable space of ground, and which, though its size 
argued the inhabitant to be a person of wealth, differed 
entirely from the tall, turreted, and castellated buildings 
in which the Norman nobility resided. 

Eotherwood was not, however, without defenses; no 
habitation, in that disturbed period, could have been so, 
without the risk of being plundered and burned before the 
next morning. A deep fosse, or ditch, was drawn round 
the whole building, and filled with water from a neigh- 
boring stream. A double stockade, or palisade, composed 
of pointed beams, which the adjacent forest supplied, 
defended the outer and inner bank of the trench. There 
was an entrance from the west through the outer stock- 
ade, which communicated by a drawbridge with a similar 
opening in the interior defenses. 

Before this entrance the Templar wound his horn 
loudly; for the rain, which had long threatened, began 
now to descend with great violence. 


CHAPTER III 


CEDRIC THE SAXON AT HOME 

In a hall, the height of which was greatly dispropor- 
tioned to its extreme length and width, a long oaken 
table formed of rough-hewn planks stood ready pre- 
pared for the evening meal of Cedric the Saxon. The 
appointments of the mansion partook of the rude sim- 
plicity of the Saxon period, which Cedric piqued him- 
self upon maintaining. For about one quarter of the 
length of the apartment the floor was raised a step, 
and this space, which was called the dais, was occupied 
only by the principal members of the family and visitors 
of distinction. For this purpose, a table richly cov- 
ered with scarlet cloth was placed across the plat- 
form, from the middle of which ran the longer and 
lower board, at which the domestics and inferior persons 
fed, down towards the bottom of the hall. The whole 
resembled the form of the letter T. 

The walls of this upper end of the hall, as far as the 
dais extended, were covered with hangings or curtains, 
and upon the floor there was a carpet. Over the lower 
range of table the rough, plastered walls were left bare, 
and the earthen floor was uncarpeted; the board was 
uncovered by a cloth, and rude, massive benches sup- 
plied the place of chairs. 

In the center of the upper table were placed two chairs 
more elevated than the rest, for the master and mistress 
of the family. To each of these chairs was added a 
17 


18 


IVANHOE 


footstool, curiously carved and inlaid with ivory, which 
mark of distinction was peculiar to them. One of these 
seats was at present occupied by Cedric the Saxon. A 
short boar-spear, with a broad and bright steel head, 
reclined against the back of his chair, which served him, 
when he walked abroad, for the purpose of a staff or of 
a weapon, as chance might require. 

Several domestics watched the looks and waited the 
commands of the Saxon dignitary. Other attendants 
there were of a different description ; two or three large 
and shaggy greyhounds, such as were then employed in 
hunting the stag and wolf; as many slow-hounds; and 
one or two of the smaller dogs, now called terriers. 

Cedric was in no very placid state of mind. The Lady 
Rowena, who had been absent to attend an evening mass 
at a distant church, had but just returned, and was 
changing her garments, which had been wetted by the 
storm. There were as yet no tidings of Gurth and his 
charge, which should long since have been driven home 
from the forest; and such was the insecurity of the 
period as to render it probable that the delay might be 
explained by some depredation of the outlaws, with 
whom the adjacent forest abounded, or by the violence of 
some neighboring baron. The matter was of consequence, 
for great part of the domestic wealth of the Saxon pro- 
prietors consisted in herds of swine. 

Besides these subjects of anxiety, the Saxon thane was 
impatient for the presence of his favorite clown,. Wamba, 
whose jests, such as they were, served for a sort of sea- 
soning to his evening meal. Cedric’s displeasure was 
expressed in broken sentences, partly muttered to him- 
self, partly addressed to the domestics who stood around 
— ‘‘ Why tarries the Lady Rowena? ” 

She is but changing her head-gear,” replied a female 


CEDRIC THE SAXON AT HOME 


19 


attendant; you would not wish her to sit down to the 
banquet in her hood and kirtle ? and no lady within the 
shire can be quicker in arraying herself than my mis- 
tress. ’ ’ 

This undeniable argument produced a sort of acqui- 
escent Umph! ” on the part of the Saxon, with the 
addition, I wish her devotion may choose fair weather 
for the next visit to St. John’s Kirk. — But what, in the 
name of ten devils,” continued he, keeps Gurth so 
long a-field? ” 

Oswald, the cupbearer, modestly suggested, That it 
was scarce an hour since the tolling of the curfew ” — 
an ill-chosen apology, since it turned upon a topic so 
harsh to Saxon ears. 

The foul fiend,” exclaimed Cedric, ‘‘ take the cur- 
few-bell! The curfew! ” he added, pausing — ‘‘ aye, 
the curfew, which compels true men to extinguish their 
lights, that thieves and robbers may work their deeds in 
darkness! Aye, the curfew! Eeginald Front- de-Boeuf 
and Philip de Malvoisin know the use of the curfew. I 
shall hear, I guess, that my property has been swept off 
to save from starving the hungry banditti whom they 
cannot support but by theft and robbery. My faithful 
slave is murdered, and my goods are taken for a prey — 
and Wamba — where is Wamba? Said not some one he 
had gone forth with Gurth ? ’ ’ 

Oswald replied in the affirmative. 

Aye! why, this is better and better! he is carried off 
too, the Saxon fool, to serve the Norman lord. Fools 
are we all indeed that serve them, and fitter subjects for 
their scorn and laughter than if we were born with but 
half our wits. But I will be avenged,” he added, start- 
ing from his chair in impatience at the supposed injury, 
and catching hold of his boar-spear ; ‘ ^ I will go with my 


20 


IVANHOE 


complaint to the great council. I have friends, I have 
followers — man to man will I appeal the Norman to the 
lists. Let him come in his plate and his mail, and all 
that can render cowardice bold ; I have sent such a jave- 
lin as this through a stronger fence than three of their 
war shields ! — Haply they think me old ; but they shall 
find, alone and childless as I am, the blood of Hereward 
is in the veins of Cedric. — Ah, Wilfred, Wilfred! ’’ he 
exclaimed in a lower tone, couldst thou have ruled 
thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left 
in his age like the solitary oak that throws out its shat- 
tered and unprotected branches against the full sweep 
of the tempest ! ’ ’ 

From his musing Cedric was suddenly awakened by 
the blast of a horn, which was replied to by the clamor- 
ous yells and barking of all the dogs in the hall. 

‘‘ To the gate, knaves! ’’ said the Saxon hastily, as 
soon as the tumult was so much appeased that the 
dependants could hear his voice. ‘‘ See what tidings 
that horn tells us of.’’ 

Eeturning in less than three minutes, a warder an- 
nounced, ‘‘ That the Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx, and the 
good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, commander of the 
valiant and venerable order of Knights Templars, with a 
small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the 
night, being on their way to a tournament which was to 
be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche on the second 
day from the present.” 

‘ ‘ Aymer — the Prior Aymer ! Brian de Bois-Guil- 
bert 1 ” muttered Cedric — ‘‘ Normans both ; but, Norman 
or Saxon, the hospitality of Rotherwood must not be 
impeached : they are welcome, since they have chosen to 
halt — more welcome would they have been to have rid- 
den further on their way. But it were unworthy to 


CEDRIC THE SAXON AT HOME 


21 


murmur for a night’s lodging and a night’s food; in the 
quality of guests, at least, even Normans must suppress 
their insolence. — Go, Hundebert,” he added, to a sort of 
major-domo who stood behind him with a white wand; 

take six of the attendants and introduce the strangers 
to the guests’ lodging. Look after their horses and 
mules, and see their train lack nothing. Let them have 
change of vestments if they require it, and fire, and 
water to wash, and wine and ale ; and bid the cooks add 
what they hastily can to our evening meal ; and let it be 
put on the board when those strangers are ready to share 
it. Say to them, Hundebert, that Cedric would himself 
bid them welcome, but he is under a vow never to step 
more than three steps from the dais of his own hall to 
meet any who shares not the blood of Saxon royalty. 
Begone! see them carefully tended.” 

The major-domo departed with several attendants to 
execute his master ’s commands. ^ ‘ The Prior Aymer 1 ’ ’ 
repeated Cedric, looking at Oswald, the brother, if I 
mistake not, of Giles de Mauleverer, now lord of Middle- 
ham? ” Oswald made a respectful sign of assent. 
‘‘ His brother sits in the seat and usurps the patrimony 
of a better race — the race of Ulfgar of Middleham ; but 
what Norman lord doth not the same? This Prior, is, 
they say, a free and jovial priest, who loves the wine- 
cup and the bugle-horn better than bell and book. 
Good; let him come, he shall be welcome. How named 
ye the Templar? ” 

Brian de Bois-Guilbert. ” 

Bois-Guilbert I ” said Cedric, “ Bois-Guilbert ! That 
name has been spread wide both for good and evil. 
They say he is valiant as the bravest of his order; but 
stained with their usual vices — pride, arrogance and 
cruelty — a hard-hearted man, who knows neither fear 
3 


22 


IVANHOE 


of earth nor awe of heaven. So say the few warriors 
who have returned from Palestine. — Well, it is but for 
one night ; he shall be welcome, too. Oswald, broach the 
oldest wine-cask; place the best mead, the mightiest ale, 
the most sparkling cider, the most odoriferous pigments 
upon the board; fill the largest horns — Templars and 
Abbots love good wines and good measure. — Elgitha, let 
thy Lady Rowena know we shall not this night expect 
her in the hall, unless such be her especial pleasure.’’ 

‘‘ But it will be her especial pleasure,” answered 
Elgitha, with great readiness, “ for she is ever desirous 
to hear the latest news from Palestine.” 

Cedric darted at the forward damsel a glance of hasty 
resentment; but Rowena and whatever belonged to her 
were privileged, and secure from his anger. He only 
replied, “ Silence, maiden; thy tongue outruns thy dis- 
cretion. Say my message to thy mistress, and let her do 
her pleasure. Here, at least, the descendant of Alfred 
still reigns a princess.” 

Elgitha left the apartment. 

“ Palestine! ” repeated the Saxon; Palestine! how 
many ears are turned to the tales which dissolute cru- 
saders or hypocritical pilgrims bring from that fatal 
land ! I, too, might ask — I, too, might inquire — I, too, 
might listen with a beating heart to fables which the 
wily strollers devise to cheat us into hospitality ; but no 
— the son who has disobeyed me is no longer mine ; nor 
will I concern myself more for his fate.” 

The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast 
wide, and, preceded by the major-domo with his wand, 
and four domestics bearing blazing torches, the guests 
of the evening entered the apartment. 


CHAPTER IV 


PLACE FOR THE LADY ROWENA 

Prior Aymer had taken the opportunity afforded him 
of changing his riding robe for one of yet more costly 
materials. The appearance of the Knight Templar was 
also changed; and his dress was as rich, and his appear- 
ance far more commanding, than that of his companion. 

These two dignified persons were followed by their 
respective attendants, and at a more humble distance by 
their guide, whose figure had nothing more remarkable 
than it derived from the usual weeds of a pilgrim. Ob- 
serving that the lower table scarce afforded room suffi- 
cient for the domestics of Cedric and the retinue of his 
guests, he withdrew to a settle placed beside, and almost 
under, one of the large chimneys, and seemed to em- 
ploy himself in drying his garments, until the hospitality 
of the steward should supply him with refreshments in 
the place he had chosen apart. 

Cedric rose to receive his guests with an air of digni- 
fied hospitality, and, descending from the dais, or ele- 
vated part of his hall, made three steps towards them, 
and then awaited their approach. 

I grieve,’’ he said, ‘‘ reverend Prior, that my vow 
binds me to advance no farther upon this floor of my 
fathers, even to receive such guests as you and this 
valiant Knight of the Holy Temple. Let me also pray 
that you will excuse my speaking to you in my native 
language, and that you will reply in the same if your 
23 


24 


IVANHOE 


knowledge of it permits ; if not, I sufficiently understand 
Norman to follow your meaning. ’ ’ 

“ Vows,” said the Abbot, “are the knots which tie 
us to Heaven, and are therefore to be discharged, unless 
Holy Church shall pronounce the contrary. And re- 
specting language, I willingly hold communication in 
that spoken by my respected grandmother, Hilda of 
Middleham, who died in odor of sanctity, little short, if 
we may presume to say so, of her glorious namesake, the 
blessed Saint Hilda of Whitby — God be gracious to her 
soul! ” 

When the Prior had ceased what he meant as a concili- 
atory harangue, his companion said briefly and emphat- 
ically, “ I speak ever French, the language of King 
Kichard and his nobles ; but I understand English suffi- 
ciently to eommimicate with the natives of the country. ’ ’ 

Cedric darted at the speaker one of those hasty and 
impatient glances which comparisons between the two 
rival nations seldom failed to call forth ; but, recollecting 
the duties of hospitality, he suppressed further show of 
resentment, and, motioning with his hand, caused his 
guests to assume two seats a little lower than his own, 
but placed close beside him, and gave a signal that the 
evening meal should be placed upon the board. 

While the attendants hastened to obey Cedric’s com- 
mands, his eye distinguished Gurth, the swineherd, who, 
with his companion Wamba, had just entered the hall. 
“ Send these loitering knaves up hither,” said the Saxon, 
impatiently. And when the culprits came before the 
dais — How comes it, villains, that you have loitered 
abroad so late as this? Hast thou brought home thy 
charge, sirrah Gurth, or hast thou left them to robbers 
and marauders? ” 

“ The herd is safe, so please ye,” said Gurth. 


PLACE FOR THE LADY ROWENA 


25 


But it does not please me, thou knave,” said Cedric, 

that I should be made to suppose otherwise for two 
hours. I tell thee, shackles and the prison-house shall 
punish the next olfense of this kind.” 

Gurth, knowing his master’s irritable temper, at- 
tempted no exculpation ; but the Jester, who could pre- 
sume upon Cedric ’s tolerance, by virtue of his privileges 
as a fool, replied for them both : ‘ ‘ In troth, uncle Cedric, 
you are neither wise nor reasonable to-night. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How, sir ! ” said his master ; ‘ ‘ you shall to the por- 
ter ’s lodge and taste of the discipline there, if you give 
your foolery such license.” 

First let your wisdom tell me,” said Wamba, is it 
just and reasonable to punish one person for the fault of 
another? ” 

‘ ‘ Certainly not, fool, ’ ’ answered Cedric. 

‘ ‘ Then why should you shackle poor Gurth, uncle, for 
the fault of his dog Fangs? for I dare be sworn we lost 
not a minute by the way, when we had got our herd to- 
gether, which Fangs did not manage until we heard the 
vesper-bell.” 

“ Then hang up Fangs,” said Cedric, turning hastily 
towards the swineherd, ‘ ‘ if the fault is his, and get thee 
another dog. ’ ’ 

“ Under favor, uncle,” said the Jester, ‘‘ that were 
still somewhat on the bow-hand of fair justice ; for it was 
no fault of Fangs that he was lame and could not gather 
the herd, but the fault of those that struck off two of his 
foreclaws.” 

‘‘ And who dared to lame an animal which belonged 
to my bondsman? ” said the Saxon, kindling in wrath. 

Marry, that did old Hubert,” said Wamba, ‘‘ Sir 
Philip de Malvoisin’s keeper of the chase. He caught 
Fangs strolling in the forest, and said he chased the 


26 


IVANHOE 


deer contrary to his master’s right, as warden of the 
walk. ’ ’ 

The foul fiend take Malvoisin,” answered the Saxon, 
“ and his keeper both! I will teach them that the wood 
was disforested in terms of the great Forest Charter. 
But enough of this. Go to, knave, — go to thy place; 
and thou, Gurth, get thee another dog, and should the 
keeper dare to touch it, I will mar his archery ; the curse 
of a coward on my head, if I strike not off the forefinger 
of his right hand! he shall draw bowstring no more. — 
I crave your pardon, my worthy guests. I am beset here 
with neighbors that match your infidels. Sir Knight, in 
Holy Land. But your homely fare is before you ; feed, 
and let welcome make amends for hard fare. ’ ’ 

When the repast was about to commence, the major- 
domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud : 
‘ ‘ Forbear ! — Place for the Lady Rowena. ’ ’ A side- 
door at the upper end of the hall now opened, behind 
the banquet table, and Rowena, followed by four female 
attendants, entered the apartment. Cedric hastened to 
meet her, and to conduct her, with respectful ceremony, 
to the elevated seat at his own right hand. All stood up 
to receive her ; and, replying to their courtesy by a mute 
gesture of salutation, she moved gracefully forward to 
assume her place at the board. Ere she had time to do 
so, the Templar whispered to the Prior: I shall wear 

no collar of gold of yours at the tournament. The Chian 
wine is your own. ’ ’ 

When Rowena perceived the Knight Templar’s eyes 
bent on her, she drew with dignity the veil around her 
face, as an intimation that the determined freedom of 
his glance was disagreeable. 

Cedric saw the motion and its cause. Sir Templar, ” 
said he, ‘ ‘ the cheeks of our Saxon maidens have seen too 


PLACE FOR THE LADY ROWENA 


27 


little of the sun to enable them to bear the fixed glance 
of a crusader. ’ ’ 

If I have offended/’ replied Sir Brian, I crave 
your pardon — that is, I crave the Lady Eowena’s par- 
don — for my humility will carry me no lower. ’ ’ 

“ The Lady Rowena,’’ said the Prior, has punished 
us all, in chastising the boldness of my friend. Let me 
hope she will be less cruel to the splendid train which 
are to meet at the tournament.” 

Our going thither,” said Cedric, is uncertain. I 
love not these vanities, which were unknown to my 
fathers when England was free. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Let us hope, nevertheless,” said the Prior, our 
company may determine you to travel thitherward ; when 
the roads are so unsafe, the escort of Sir Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert is not to be despised.” 

Sir Prior,” answered the Saxon, wheresoever I 
have traveled in this land, I have hitherto found myself, 
with the assistance of my good sword and faithful follow- 
ers, in no respect needful of other aid. At present, if we 
indeed journey to Ashby-de-la-Zouche, w^e do so with my 
noble neighbor and countryman, Athelstane of Conings- 
burgh, and with such a train as would set outlaws and 
feudal enemies at defiance. — I drink to you. Sir Prior, 
in this cup of wine, which I trust your taste will approve, 
and I thank you for your courtesy. ’ ’ 

And I,” said the Templar, filling his goblet, drink 
wassail to the fair Rowena ; for since her namesake intro- 
duced the word into England, has never been one more 
worthy of such a tribute.” 

I will spare your .courtesy. Sir Knight,” said Rowena 
with dignity, and without unveiling herself ; ‘ ‘ or rather 
I will tax it so far as to require of you the latest news 
from Palestine.” 


28 


IVANHOE 


I have little of importance to say, lady,’^ answered 
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, “ excepting the confirmed 
tidings of a truce with Saladin. ’ ’ 

“ These truces with the infidels/’ exclaimed Wamba, 
make an old man of me! ” 

Go to, knave — how so? ” said Cedric, his features 
prepared to receive favorably the expected jest. 

“ Because,” answered Wamba, I remember three of 
them in my day, each of which was to endure for the 
course of fifty years ; so that, by computation, I must be 
at least a hundred and fifty years old. ’ ’ 

Conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of 
the porter’s page, who announced that there was a 
stranger at the gate, imploring admittance and hos- 
pitality. 

“ Admit him,” said Cedric, ‘‘be he who or what he 
may ; — a night like that which roars without, compels 
even wild animals to herd with tame, and to seek the 
protection of man, their mortal foe, rather than perish 
by the elements. Let his wants be ministered to with 
all care ; look to it, Oswald. ’ ’ 

And the steward left the banqueting-hall to see the 
commands of his patron obeyed. 


CHAPTER V 


‘‘ SECOND TO none! 

Oswald, returning, whispered into the ear of his 
master, ‘‘ It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York; 
is it fit I should marshal him into the hall ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald,” said Wamba, 
with his usual effrontery; ‘‘ the swineherd will be a fit 
usher to the Jew.” 

St. Mary,” said the Abbot, crossing himself, an 
unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this presence! ” 

A dog Jew,” echoed the Templar, “ to approach a 
defender of the Holy Sepulcher? ” 

‘‘ By my faith,” said Wamba, it would seem the 
Templars love the Jews’ inheritance better than they do 
their company.” 

‘‘ Peace, my worthy guests,” said Cedric; my hospi- 
tality must not be bounded by your dislikes. If Heaven 
bore with the whole nation of stiff-necked unbelievers 
for more years than a layman can number, we may en- 
dure the presence of one Jew for a few hours. But I 
constrain no man to converse or to feed with him. — Let 
him have a board and a morsel apart. Hush, for here 
he comes.” 

Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with 
fear and hesitation, and many a bow of deep humility, a 
tall, thin old man, who, however, had lost by the habit of 
stooping much of his actual height, approached the lower 
end of the board. Cedric himself coldly nodded in an- 
29 


30 


IVANHOE 


swer to the Jew's repeated salutations, and signed to 
him to take place at the lower end of the table, where, 
however, no one offered to make room for him. On the 
contrary, as he passed along the file, the Saxon domestics 
squared their shoulders, the attendants of the Abbot 
crossed themselves, with looks of pious horror, and the 
very heathen Saracens curled up their whiskers with 
indignation. 

While Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present so- 
ciety, like his people among the nations, looking in vain 
for welcome or resting-place, the Pilgrim, who sat by the 
chimney, took compassion upon him, and resigned his 
seat, saying briefly, ‘‘ Old man, my garments are dried, 
my hunger is appeased ; thou art both wet and fasting. ' ' 
So saying, he gathered together and brought to a flame 
the decaying brands which lay scattered on the ample 
hearth, took from the larger board a mess of pottage 
and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which 
he had himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's 
thanks, went to the other side of the hall. 

“ I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the Abbot, that, 
great as your predilection is for your own manly lan- 
guage, you do not receive the Norman-French into your 
favor, so far at least as the mystery of wood-craft and 
hunting is concerned." 

“ Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, “ be it known 
to you, I care not for those over-sea refinements, without 
which I can well enough take my pleasure in the woods. 
I can wind my horn, I can cheer my dogs on the prey, 
and I can flay and quarter the animal when it is brought 
down, without using the jargon of the fabulous Sir 
Tristrem. ' ' 

“ The French," said the Templar, raising his voice 
with the presumptuous and authoritative tone which he 


SECOND TO NONE! 


31 


used upon all occasions, ‘‘ is not only the natural lan- 
guage of the chase, but that of love and of war, in which 
ladies should be won and enemies defied/’ 

“ Pledge me in a cup of wine. Sir Templar,” said 
Cedric, ‘ ‘ and fill another to the Abbot, while I look back 
some thirty years to tell you another tale. As Cedric the 
Saxon then was, his plain English tale needed no garnish 
from French troubadours when it was told in the ear of 
beauty ; and the field of Northallerton, upon the day of 
the Holy Standard, could tell whether the Saxon war-cry 
was not heard as far within the ranks of the Scottish 
host as the war-cry of the boldest Norman baron. To 
the memory of the brave who fought there 1 — Pledge 
pie, my guests.” He drank deep, and went on with in- 
creasing warmth : ‘ ‘ Aye, that was a day of cleaving of 

shields, when a hundred banners were bent forward over 
the heads of the valiant, and blood flowed round like 
water, and death wa^ held better than flight. A Saxon 
bard had called it a feast of the swords — a gathering of 
the eagles to the prey — the clashing of bills upon shield 
and helmet, the shouting of battle more joyful than the 
clamor of a bridal. But our bards are no more,” he 
said; ‘‘ our deeds are lost in those of another race; our 
language — our very name — is hastening to decay, and 
none mourns for it save one solitary old man. — Cup- 
bearer! knave, fill the goblets. To the strong in arms. 
Sir Templar, be their race or language what it will, who 
now bear them best in Palestine among the champions ol 
the Cross! ” 

It becomes not one wearing this badge to answer,” 
said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert ; ‘ ‘ yet to whom, 
besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulcher, 
can the palm be assigned among the champions of the 
Cross? ’’ 


32 


IVANHOE 


“ To the Knights Hospitalers/’ said the Abbot; I 
have a brother of their order. ’ ’ 

‘‘ I impeach not their fame,” said the Templar; 
‘ ‘ nevertheless — ’ ’ 

“ I think, friend Cedric,” said Wamba, interfering, 
‘ ‘ that had Richard of the Lion ’s Heart been wise enough 
to take a fool’s advice, he might have stayed at home 
with his merry Englishmen, and left the recovery of 
Jerusalem to those same knights who had most to do 
with the loss of it.” 

“ Were there, then, none in the English army,” said 
the Lady Rowena, ‘ ‘ whose names are worthy to be men- 
tioned with the Knights of the Temple and of St, 
John? ” 

Forgive me, lady,” replied De Bois-Guilbert ; the 
English monarch did indeed bring to Palestine a host of 
gallant warriors, second only to those whose breasts have 
been the unceasing bulwark of that blessed land.” 

‘‘ Second to none,” said the Pilgrim, who had stood 
near enough to hear, and had listened to this conversation 
with marked impatience. All turned towards the spot 
from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard. 
‘ ‘ I say, ’ ’ repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, 
^ ‘ that the English chivalry was second to none who ever 
drew sword in defense of the Holy Land. I say besides, 
for I saw it, that King Richard himself, and five of his 
knights, held a tournament after the taking of St. John- 
de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. I say that, 
on that day, each knight ran three courses, and cast to 
the ground three antagonists. I add, that seven of these 
assailants were Knights of the Temple; and Sir Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell 
you.” 

It is impossible for language to describe the bitter 


SECOND TO NONE! 


33 


scowl of rage which rendered yet darker the swarthy 
countenance of the Templar. Cedric, whose feelings 
were all of a right onward and simple kind, omitted, in 
the joyous glee with which he heard of the glory of his 
countrymen, to remark the angry confusion of his guest. 

I would give thee this golden bracelet. Pilgrim,’’ he 
said, couldst thou tell me the names of those knights 
who upheld so gallantly the renown of merry England. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That will I do blithely, ’ ’ replied the Pilgrim, ‘ ‘ and 
without guerdon. The first in honor as in arms, in re- 
nown as in place, was the brave Richard, King of Eng- 
land.” 

^ ‘ I forgive him, ’ ’ said Cedric — ^ ‘ I forgive him his 
descent from the tyrant Duke William.” 

The Earl of Leicester was the second,” continued 
the Pilgrim. Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland was the 
third. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Of Saxon descent, he at least,” said Cedric, with 
exultation. 

Sir Foulk Doilly the fourth,” proceeded the Pilgrim. 

‘‘ Saxon also, at least by the mother’s side,” continued 
Cedric, who listened with the utmost eagerness, and for- 
got, in part at least, his hatred to the Normans in the 
common triumph of the King of England and his 
islanders. ‘‘ And who was the fifth? ” he demanded. 

‘‘ The fifth was Sir Edwin Turneham.” 

Genuine Saxon, by the soul of Hengist! ” shouted 
Cedric. ‘ ‘ And the sixth ? ” he continued with eagerness 
— ‘ ‘ how name you the sixth ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The sixth, ’ ’ said the Palmer, after a pause, in which 
he seemed to recollect himself, was a young knight of 
lesser renown and lower rank, assumed into that honor- 
able company less to aid their enterprise than to make 
up their number; his name dwells not in my memory.” 


34 


IVANHOE 


‘‘ Sir Palmer/’ said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, scornfully, 
‘‘ this assumed forgetfulness, after so much has been re- 
membered, comes too late to serve your purpose. I will 
myself tell the name of the knight before whose lance 
fortune and my horse ’s fault occasioned my falling — it 
was the Knight of Ivanhoe ; nor was there one of the six 
that, for his years, had more renown in arms. — Yet this 
will I say, and loudly — that were he in England, and 
durst repeat, in this week ’s tournament, the challenge of 
St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I now am, 
would ^ive him every advantage of weapons, and abide 
the result.” 

“Your challenge would be soon answered,” replied the 
Palmer, “ were your antagonist near you. As the matter 
is, disturb not the peaceful hall with vaunts of the issue 
of a conflict which you well know cannot take place. If 
Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his surety 
that he meets you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ A goodly security ! ’ ’ said the Knight Templar ; 
“ and what do you proffer as a pledge? ” 

“ This reliquary,” said the Palmer, taking a small 
ivory box from his bosom, and crossing himself, “ con- 
taining a portion of the true cross, brought from the 
Monastery of Mount Carmel.” 

The Prior of Jorvaulx crossed himself and repeated a 
pater noster, in which all devoutly joined, excepting the 
Jew, the Mahomedans, and the Templar; the latter of 
whom, without vailing his bonnet or testifying any rever- 
ence for the alleged sanctity of the relic, took from his 
neck a gold chain, which he flung on the board, saying, 
“ Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge and that of this name- 
less vagrant, in token that, when the Knight of Ivanhoe 
comes within the four seas of Britain, he underlies the 
challenge of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answers 


SECOND TO NONE! 


35 


not, I will proclaim him as a coward on the walls of every 
Temple Court in Europe/’ 

It will not need,” said the Lady Rowena, breaking 
silence : ‘‘ my voice shall be heard, if no other in this hall 
is raised, in behalf of the absent Ivanhoe. I affirm he 
will meet fairly every honorable challenge. Could my 
weak warrant add security to the inestimable pledge of 
this holy pilgrim, I would pledge name and fame that 
Ivanhoe gives this proud knight the meeting he desires.” 

A crowd of conflicting emotions seemed to have occu- 
pied Cedric and kept him silent during this discussion. 
Gratifled pride, resentment, embarrassment, chased each 
other over his broad and open brow, like the shadow of 
clouds drifting over a harvest-fleld ; while his attendants, 
on whom the name of the sixth knight seemed to produce 
an effect almost electrical, hung in suspense upon their 
master’s looks. But when Rowena spoke, the sound of 
her voice seemed to startle him from his silence. 

‘‘ Lady,” said Cedric, this beseems not; were further 
pledge necessary, I myself, offended, and justly offended, 
as I am, would yet gauge my honor for the honor of 
Ivanhoe. But the wager of battle is complete, even 
according to the fantastic fashions of Norman chivalry. 
— Is it not. Father Aymer ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ It is, ” replied the Prior ; ‘ ‘ and the blessed relic and 
rich chain will I bestow safely in the treasury of our 
convent, until the decision of this warlike challenge.” 

Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and 
again, and delivered the reliquary to Brother Ambrose, 
his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with less 
ceremony, but perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, 
the golden chain, and bestowed it in a pouch lined with 
perfumed leather, which opened under his arm. ‘ ^ And 
now, Sir Cedric,” he said, my ears are chiming vespers 


36 


IVANHOE 


with the strength of your good wine, — permit us another 
pledge to the welfare of the Lady Rowena, and indulge 
us with liberty to pass to our repose.” 

The grace-cup was accordingly served round, and the 
guests, after making deep obeisance to their landlord and 
to the Lady Rowena, arose and mingled in the hall, while 
the heads of the family, by separate doors, retired with 
their attendants. 

“ Unbelieving dog,” said the Templar to Isaac the Jew, 
as he passed him in the throng, ‘‘ dost thou bend thy 
course to the tournament ? ’ ’ 

“ I do so propose,” replied Isaac, bowing in all humil- 
ity, “ if it please your reverend valor. ’ ^ 

“ Aye,” said the Knight, to gnaw the bowels of our 
nobles with usury, and to gull women and boys with 
gauds and toys — I warrant thee store of shekels in thy 
Jewish scrip.” 

‘ ‘ Not a shekel, not a silver penny, not a halfling, — so 
help me the God of Abraham! ” said the Jew, clasping 
his hands. ‘‘ I go but to seek the assistance of some 
brethren of my tribe to aid me to pay the fine which the 
Exchequer of the Jews have imposed upon me, Father 
Jacob be my speed! I am an impoverished wretch — 
the very gaberdine I wear is borrowed from Reuben of 
Tadcaster. ’ ’ 

The Templar smiled sourly as he replied, Beshrew 
thee for a false-hearted liar! ” and passing onward, as if 
disdaining farther conference, he communed with his 
Moslem slaves in a language unknown to the bystanders. 

The Templar and Prior were shortly after marshalled 
to their sleeping apartments by the steward and the cup- 
bearer, each attended by two torch-bearers and two serv- 
ants carrying refreshments, while servants of inferior 
condition indicated to their retinue and to the other 
guests their respective places of repose. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW'S ESCAPE 

As the Palmer, lighted by a domestic with a torch, 
passed through the intricate combination of apartments 
of this large and irregular mansion, the cupbearer, com- 
ing behind him, whispered in his ear, that if he had no 
objection to a cup of good mead in his apartment, there 
were many domestics in that family who would gladly 
hear the news he had brought from the Holy Land, and 
particularly that which concerned the Knight of Ivanhoe. 
Wamba presently appeared to urge the same request, 
observing that a cup after midnight was worth three after 
curfew. Without disputing a maxim urged by such 
grave authority, the Palmer thanked them for their 
courtesy, but observed that he had included in his reli- 
gious vow an obligation never to speak in the kitchen on 
matters which were prohibited in the hall. 

The cupbearer shrugged up his shoulders in displeas- 
ure. ‘ ‘ I thought to have lodged him in the upper cham- 
ber, ’ ’ said he ; ‘ ‘ but since he is so unsocial to Christians, 
e’en let him take the next stall to Isaac the Jew’s. — 
Anwold,” said he to the torch-bearer, carry the 
Pilgrim to the southern cell. — I give you good night,” 
he added, Sir Palmer, with small thanks for short 
courtesy. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Good night, and Our Lady’s benison! ” said the 
Palmer, with composure; and his guide moved forward. 

In a small ante-chamber, into which several doors 
4 37 


38 


IVANHOE 


opened, and which was lighted by a small iron lamp, they 
met a second interruption, from the waiting-maid of 
Rowena, who, saying in a tone of authority that her mis- 
tress desired to speak with the Palmer, took the torch 
from the hand of Anwold, and, bidding him await her 
return, made a sign to the Palmer to follow. 

A short passage led him to the apartment of the Lady 
Rowena, the rude magnificence of which corresponded to 
the respect which was paid to her by the lord of the man- 
sion. The Lady Rowena, with three of her attendants 
standing at her back, and arranging her hair ere she lay 
down to rest, was seated in a sort of throne, and looked 
as if born to exact general homage. The Pilgrim ac- 
knowledged her claim to it by a low genuflection. 

Rise, Palmer,’’ said she, graciously. The defender 
of the absent has a right to favorable reception from all 
who value truth and honor manhood.” She then said 
to her train, ‘‘ Retire, excepting only Elgitha; I would 
speak with this holy Pilgrim.” 

“ Pilgrim,” said the lady, after a moment’s pause, 
during which she seemed uncertain how to address him, 

you this night mentioned a name — I mean,” she said, 
with a degree of effort, ‘ ‘ the name of Ivanhoe — in the 
halls where by nature and kindred it should have sounded 
most acceptably ; and yet, such is the perverse course of 
fate, that of many whose hearts must have throbbed at 
the sound, I only dare ask you where, and in what con- 
dition, you left him of whom you spoke? — We heard 
that, having remained in Palestine, on account of his 
impaired health, after the departure of the English army, 
he had experienced the persecution of the French faction, 
to whom the Templars are known to be attached.” 

I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe,” answered 
the Palmer, with a troubled voice. “ I would I knew 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW’S ESCAPE 


39 


him better, since yon, lady, are interested in his fate. 
He hath, I believe, surmounted the persecution of his 
enemies in Palestine, and is on the eve of returning to 
England, where you, lady, must know better than I what 
is his chance of happiness. ’ ’ 

The Lady Rowena sighed deeply, and asked more par- 
ticularly when the Knight of Ivanhoe might be expected 
in his native country, and whether he would not be ex- 
posed to great dangers by the road. On the first point, 
the Palmer professed ignorance; on the second, he said 
that the voyage might be safely made by the way of 
Venice and Genoa, and from thence through France to 
England. ‘ ^ Ivanhoe, ’ ’ he said, ^ ^ was so well acquainted 
with the language and manners of the French, that there 
was no fear of his incurring any hazard during that part 
of his travels.’’ 

Would to God,” said the Lady Rowena, he were 
here safely arrived, and able to bear arms in the ap- 
proaching tourney, in which the chivalry of this land are 
expected to display their address and valor. Should 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh obtain the prize, Ivanhoe is 
like to hear evil tidings when he reaches England. — 
How looked he, stranger, when you last saw him ? Had 
disease laid her hand heavy upon his strength and come- 
liness? ” 

‘‘ He was darker,” said the Palmer, and thinner 
than when he came from Cyprus in the train of Coeur-de- 
Lion, and care seemed to sit heavy on his brow; but I 
approached not his presence, because he is unknown to 
me.” 

He will,” said the lady, I fear, find little in his 
native land to clear those clouds from his countenance. 
Thanks, good Pilgrim, for your information concerning 
the companion of my childhood. — Maidens,” she said, 


40 


IVANHOE 


‘ ‘ draw near — ofiPer the sleeping-cup to this holy man, 
whom I will no longer detain from repose. ’ ’ 

One of the maidens presented a silver cup containing 
a rich mixture of wine and spice, which Eowena barely 
put to her lips. It was then offered to the Palmer, who, 
after a low obeisance, tasted a few drops. 

Accept this alms, friend,’’ continued the lady, offer- 
ing a piece of gold, in acknowledgment of thy painful 
travail, and of the shrines thou hast visited. ’ ’ 

The Palmer received the boon with another low rever- 
ence, and followed Elgitha out of the apartment. 

In the ante-room he found his attendant Anwold, who, 
taking the torch from the hand of the waiting-maid, con- 
ducted him with more haste than ceremony to an exterior 
and ignoble part of the building, where a number of 
small apartments, or rather cells, served for sleeping- 
places to the lower order of domestics, and to strangers 
of mean degree. 

In which of these sleeps the Jew? ” said the Pilgrim. 

The unbelieving dog,” answered Anwold, kennels 
in the cell next your holiness. — St. Dunstan, how it 
must be scraped and cleansed ere it be again fit for a 
Christian! ” 

‘‘ And where sleeps Gurth, the swineherd? ” 

‘ ‘ Gurth, ’ ’ replied the bondsman, ‘ ‘ sleeps in the cell on 
your right, as the Jew in that to your left ; you serve to 
keep the child of circumcision separate from the abomi- 
nation of his tribe. You might have occupied a more 
honorable place had you accepted Oswald’s invitation.” 

‘‘ It is as well as it is,” said the Palmer; the com- 
pany even of a Jew can hardly spread contamination 
through an oaken partition.” 

So saying, he entered the cabin allotted to him, and, 
taking the torch from the domestic’s hand, thanked him 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW’S ESCAPE 


41 


and wished him good night. Having shut the door of 
his cell, he extinguished his torch, threw himself, without 
taking . off any part of his clothes, on the rude couch, and 
slept, or at least retained his recumbent posture, till the 
earliest sunbeams found their w^y through the little 
grated window, which served at once to admit both air 
and light to his uncomfortable cell. He then started up, 
and, after repeating his matins and adjusting his dress, 
he left it, and entered that of Isaac the Jew, lifting the 
latch as gently as he could. 

The inmate was lying in troubled slumber upon a 
couch similar to that on which the Palmer himself had 
passed the night. His hands and arms moved convul- 
sively, as if struggling with the nightmare; and besides 
several ejaculations in Hebrew, the following were dis- 
tinctly heard in the Norman-English, or mixed language 
of the country : For the sake of the God of Abraham, 

spare an unhappy old man ! I am poor, I am penniless ; 
should your irons wrench my limbs asunder, I could 
not gratify you ! ’ ’ 

The Palmer awaited not the end of the Jew’s vision, 
but stirred him with his pilgrim’s staff. The touch prob- 
ably associated, as is usual, with some of the apprehen- 
sions excited by his dream ; for the old man started up, 
and fixed upon the Palmer his keen black eyes, expres- 
sive of wild surprise and of bodily apprehension. 

Pear nothing from me, Isaac,” said the Palmer, I 
come as your friend. ’ ’ 

The God of Israel requite you,” said the Jew, 
greatly relieved; ‘‘ I dreamed — But Father Abraham 
be praised, it was but a dream ! ’ ’ Then, collecting him- 
self, he added in his usual tone, And what may it be 
your pleasure to want at so early an hour with the poor 
Jew? ” 


42 


IVANHOE 


‘‘It is to tell you,” said the Palmer, “ that if you 
leave not this mansion instantly, and travel not with some 
haste, your journey may prove a dangerous one. When 
the Templar crossed the hall yesternight he spoke to his 
Mussulman slaves in the Saracen language, which I well 
understand, and charged them to watch this morning 
the journey of the Jew, to seize upon him when at a 
convenient distance from the mansion, and to conduct 
him to the castle of Philip de Malvoisin or to that of 
Reginald Pront-de-Boeuf . ” 

The extremity of terror which seized upon the Jew at 
this information seemed at once to overpower his whole 
faculties. His arms fell down to his sides, and he sunk 
at the foot of the Palmer like a man borne down on all 
sides by the pressure of some invisible force. 

“ Holy God of Abraham! ” was his first exclamation, 
“ O holy Moses! O blessed Aaron! the dream is not 
dreamed for nought, and the vision cometh not in vain ! 
I feel their irons already tear my sinews ! ’ ’ 

“ Stand up, Isaac, and harken to me,” said the Palmer, 
who viewed the extremity of his distress with a compas- 
sion in which contempt was largely mingled ; ‘ ‘ stand up, 
I say, and I will point out to you the means of escape. 
Leave this mansion instantly, while its inmates sleep 
sound after last night’s revel. I will guide you by 
the secret paths of the forest, known as well to me as to 
any forester that ranges it, and I will not leave you till 
you are under safe conduct of some chief or baron going 
to the tournament, whose good-will you have probably 
the means of securing. ’ ’ 

Z possess the means of securing good-will! Alas! 
there is but one road to the favor of a Christian, and 
how can the poor Jew find it, whom extortions have 
already reduced to the misery of Lazarus ? ’ ’ Then, as if 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW’S ESCAPE 


43 


suspicion had overpowered his other feelings, Isaac sud- 
denly exclaimed, ‘‘ For the love of God, young man, 
betray me not — for the sake of the Great Father who 
made us all, Jew as well as Gentile, Israelite and Ishmael- 
ite, do me no treason ! ” As he spoke these last words, 
he raised himself and grasped the Palmer’s mantle with 
a look of the most earnest entreaty. The Pilgrim extri- 
cated himself, as if there were contamination in the 
touch. 

Wert thou loaded with all the wealth of thy tribe,” 
he said, what interest have I to injure thee? — In this 
dress I am vowed to poverty, nor do I change it for aught 
save a horse and a coat of mail. Yet think not that I 
care for thy company, or propose myself advantage by 
it; remain here if thou wilt — Cedric the Saxon may 
protect thee.” 

Alas! ” said the Jew, he will not let me travel in 
his train — Saxon or Norman will be equally ashamed of 
the poor Israelite; and to travel by myself through the 
domains of Philip de Malvoisin and Reginald Front-de- 
Boeuf — Good youth, I will go with you! Let us 
haste — let us gird up our loins — let us flee ! — Here is 
thy staff, why wilt thou tarry? ” 

‘‘ I tarry not,” said the Pilgrim, giving way to the 
urgency of his companion ; ‘ ‘ but I must secure the means 
of leaving this place ; follow me. ’ ’ 

He led the way to the adjoining cell, which, as the 
reader is apprised, was occupied by Gurth, the swineherd. 

Arise, Gurth,” said the Pilgrim, arise quickly. 
Undo the postern gate, and let out the Jew and me.” 

Gurth, whose occupation, though now held so mean, 
gave him much consequence in Saxon England, was 
offended at the familiar and commanding tone assumed 
by the Palmer, The Jew leaving Rotherwood,” said 


44 


IVANHOE 


he, raising himself on his elbow and looking supercil- 
iously at him, without quitting his pallet, ‘‘ and trav- 
eling in company with the Palmer to boot? Both Jew 
and Gentile must be content to abide the opening of the 
great gate — we suffer no visitors to depart by stealth 
at these unseasonable hours. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Nevertheless,’’ said the Pilgrim, in a commanding 
tone, ‘ ‘ you will not, I think, refuse me that favor. ’ ’ 

So saying, he stooped over the bed of the recumbent 
swineherd, and whispered something in his ear in Saxon. 
Gurth started up as if electrified. The Pilgrim, raising 
his finger in an attitude as if to express caution, added, 
Gurth, beware; thou art wont to be prudent. I say, 
undo the postern ; thou shalt know more anon. ’ ’ 

With hasty alacrity Gurth obeyed him, while Wamba 
and the Jew followed, both wondering at the sudden 
change in the swineherd’s demeanor. 

My mule, my mule! ” said the Jew, as soon as they 
stood without the postern. 

Fetch him his mule,” said the Pilgrim; and, hear- 
est thou, let me have another that I may bear him com- 
pany till he is beyond these parts. I will return it safely 
to some of Cedric’s train at Ashby. And do thou — ” he 
whispered the rest in Gurth ’s ear. 

“ Willingly, most willingly shall it be done,” said 
Gurth, and instantly departed to execute the commission. 

I wish I knew,” said Wamba, when his comrade’s 
back was turned, ‘‘ what you Palmers learn in the Holy 
Land.” 

'' To say our orisons, fool,” answered the Pilgrim, ‘‘ to 
repent our sins, and to mortify ourselves with fastings, 
vigils, and long prayers.” 

Something more potent than that,” answered the 
Jester; '' for when would repentence or prayer make 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW’S ESCAPE 


45 


Gurth do a courtesy, or fasting or vigil persuade him to 
lend you a mule? I trow you might as well have told 
his favorite black boar of thy vigils and penance, and 
wouldst have gotten as civil an answer. ’ ’ 

At this moment Gurth appeared on the opposite side of 
the moat with the mules. The travelers crossed the ditch 
upon a drawbridge of only two planks ’ breadth, the nar- 
rowness of which was matched with the straightness of the 
postern, and with a little wicket in the exterior pali- 
sade, which gave access to the forest. No sooner had 
they reached the mules than the Jew, with hasty and 
trembling hands, secured behind the saddle a small bag of 
blue buckram, which he took from under his cloak, con- 
taining, as he muttered, ^ ^ a change of raiment — only a 
change of raiment. ” Then, getting upon the animal with 
more alacrity and haste than could have been anticipated 
from his years, he lost no time in so disposing of the 
skirts of his gaberdine as to conceal completely from 
observation the burden which he had thus deposited be- 
hind. 

The Pilgrim mounted with more deliberation, reaching, 
as he departed, his hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the 
utmost possible veneration. The swineherd stood gazing 
after the travelers until they were lost under the boughs 
of the forest path. 

When the travelers had pushed on at a rapid rate 
through many devious paths, the Palmer at length broke 
silence. 

That large decayed oak,’’ he said, marks the boun- 
daries over which Front-de-Boeuf claims authority; we 
are long since far from those of Malvoisin. There is now 
no fear of pursuit. ’ ’ 

May the wheels of their chariots be taken off,” said 
the Jew, like those of the host of Pharaoh, that they 


46 


IVANHOE 


may drive heavily ! — But leave me not, good Pilgrim. — 
Think of that fierce and savage Templar, with his 
Saracen slaves; they will regard neither territory, nor 
manor, nor lordship.’’ 

‘ ‘ Our road, ’ ’ said the Palmer, ^ ‘ should here separate ; 
for it beseems not men of my character and thine to 
travel together longer than needs must be. Besides, 
what succor couldst thou have from me, a peaceful Pil- 
grim, against two armed heathens? ” 

0 good youth,” answered the Jew, ‘‘ thou canst 
defend me, and I know thou wouldst. Poor as I am, I 
will requite it — not with money, for money, so help me 
my Father Abraham! I have none; but — ” 

‘‘ Money and recompense,” said the Palmer, interrupt- 
ing him, “ I require not of thee. Guide thee I can, 
and even in some sort defend thee; since to protect a 
Jew against a Saracen can scarce be accounted unworthy 
of a Christian. We are now not far from the town of 
Sheffield, where thou mayest easily find many of thy 
tribe with whom to take refuge.” 

‘‘ The blessing of Jacob be upon thee, good youth! ” 
said the Jew; ‘‘ in Sheffield I can harbor with my kins- 
man Zareth, and find some means of traveling forth with 
safety. ’ ’ 

Be it so,” said the Palmer; ‘‘ at Sheffield then we 
part, and half an hour’s riding will bring us in sight of 
that town.” 

The half hour was spent in perfect silence on both 
parts; the Pilgrim perhaps disdaining to address the 
Jew, except in case of absolute necessity, and the Jew 
not presuming to force a conversation with a person 
whose journey to the Holy Sepulcher gave a sort of sanc- 
tity to his character. They paused on the top of a gently 
rising bank, and the Pilgrim, pointing to the town of 


THE PALMER AIDS THE JEW’S ESCAPE 


47 


Sheffield, which lay beneath them, repeated the words. 
Here, then, we part.’’ 

Not till you have had the poor Jew’s thanks,” said 
Isaac ; ^ ‘ for I presume not to ask you to go with me to 
my kinsman Zareth’s, who might aid me with some means 
of repaying your good offices. ’ ’ 

I have already said,” answered the Pilgrim, ‘‘ that 
I desire no recompense. If, among the huge list of thy 
debtors, thou wilt, for my sake, spare the gyves and the 
dungeon to some unhappy Christian who stands in thy 
danger, I shall hold this morning’s service to thee well 
bestowed.” 

Stay, stay,” said the Jew, laying hold of his gar- 
ment ; ‘ ‘ something would I do more than this — some- 
thing for thyself. God knows the Jew is poor — yes, 
Isaac is the beggar of his tribe — but forgive me should 
I guess what thou most lackest at this moment. Thy 
wish even now is for a horse and armor. ’ ’ 

The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the 
Jew. ‘‘ What fiend prompted that guess? ” said he, 
hastily. « 

No matter,” said the Jew, smiling, so that it be a 
true one; and as I can guess thy want, so I can supply 
it. There dropped words from you last night and this 
morning that, like sparks from flint, showed the metal 
within ; and in the bosom of that Palmer ’s gown is hidden 
a knight’s chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as 
you stooped over my bed in the morning. ’ ’ 

The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. Were thy 
garments searched by as curious an eye, Isaac,” said he, 
“ what discoveries might not be made? ” 

‘ ‘ No more of that, ’ ’ said the J ew, changing color ; and 
drawing forth his writing materials in haste, as if to stop 
the conversation, he began to write upon a piece of paper 


48 


IVANHOE 


which he supported on the top of his yellow cap, without 
dismounting from his mule. When he had finished, he 
delivered the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, 
to the Pilgrim, saying, ‘ ‘ In the town of Leicester all men 
know the rich Jew, Kirjath Jairam of Lombardy; give 
him this scroll. He hath on sale six Milan harnesses, the 
worst would suit a crowned head — ten goodly steeds, the 
worst might mount a king, were he to do battle for his 
throne. Of these he will give thee thy choice, with every- 
thing else that can furnish thee forth for the tourna- 
ment; when it is over, thou wilt return them safely — 
unless thou shouldst have wherewith to pay their value 
to the owner.” 

“ But Isaac,” said the Pilgrim, smiling, “ dost thou 
know that in these sports the arms and steed of the 
knight who is unhorsed are forfeit to his victor ? Now I 
may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replace 
or repay. ’ ’ 

The Jew looked somewhat astoiinded at this possibil- 
ity; but, collecting his courage, he replied hastily, “ No 

— no — no. It is impossible — I will not think so. The 
blessing of Our Father will be upon thee. Thy lance 
will be powerful as the rod of Moses. Fare thee well! 

— Yet, hark thee, good youth,” said he, turning about, 
“ thrust thyself not too forward into this vain hurly- 
l)nrly — I speak not for endangering the steed and coat 
of armor, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs.” 

“ Many thanks for thy caution,” said the Palmer, 
again smiling; “ I will use thy courtesy frankly, and it 
will go hard with me but I will requite it. ’ ’ 

They parted, and took different roads for the town of 
Sheffield. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE LISTS AT ASHBY. 

The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to 
take place at Ashby, had attracted universal attention, 
and an immense confluence of persons of all ranks 
hastened upon the appointed morning to the place of 
combat. 

The scene was singularly romantic. The ground, as if 
fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was 
intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level 
bottom, which was inclosed for the lists with strong pal- 
isades, forming a space a quarter of a mile in length, 
and about half as broad. On a platform beyond the 
southern entrance were pitched five magnificent pavil- 
ions, adorned with pennons of russet and black, the 
chosen colors of the five knights challengers. Before each 
pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom 
it was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly 
disguised in some fantastic dress. The central pavilion, 
as the place of honor, had been assigned to Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry 
had occasioned him to be eagerly received into the com- 
pany of the challengers, and even adopted as their chief 
and leader. On one side of his tent were pitched those 
of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Philip de Malvoisin, 
and on the other was the pavilion of Hugh de Grant- 
mesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity. Ralph de Vipont, 
a knight of St. John of Jerusalem, occupied the fifth 
49 


50 


IVANHOE 


pavilion. From the entrance into the lists a gently 
sloping passage, ten yards in breadth, led np to the plat- 
form on which the tents were pitched. 

The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar 
entrance of thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of 
which was a large inclosed space for such knights as 
might be disposed to enter the lists with the challengers. 

The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by tem- 
porary galleries, spread with tapestry and carpets, and 
accommodated with cushions for the convenience of those 
ladies and nobles who were expected to attend the tour- 
nament. A narrow space betwixt these galleries and the 
lists gave accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of 
a better degree than the mere vulgar. The promiscuous 
multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf 
prepared for the purpose. 

One gallery in the very center of the eastern side of 
the lists, and consequently exactly opposite the spot 
where the shock of combat was to take place, was 
raised higher than the others, more richly decorated, and 
graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the 
royal arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeo- 
men in rich liveries waited around this place of honor, 
which was designed for Prince John and his attendants. 
Opposite this gallery was another, elevated to the same 
height, on the western side of the lists, and more gayly, if 
less sumptuously, decorated than that destined for the 
Prince himself. A train of pages and young maidens, 
the most beautiful who could be selected, gayly dressed 
in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded a throne 
decorated in the same colors. Among pennons and flags 
bearing wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding hearts, 
and bows and quivers, a blazoned inscription informed 
the spectators that this seat of honor was designed for 


THE LISTS AT ASHBY 


51 


The Queen of Beauty and of Love. But who was to 
represent the Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present 
occasion, no one was prepared to guess. 

Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged 
forward to occupy their respective stations. Gradually 
the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in 
their robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles 
contrasted with the gayer and more splendid habits 
of the ladies. The lower and interior space was soon 
filled by substantial yoemen and burghers, and such of 
the lesser gentry as, from modesty, poverty, or dubious 
title, durst not assume any higher place. It was of 
course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for 
precedence occurred. 

‘ ' Dog of an unbeliever, ’ ’ said an old man, whose thread- 
bare tunic bore witness to his poverty, as his sword and 
dagger and golden chain intimated his pretensions to 
rank — ^ ^ whelp of a she-wolf ! darest thou press upon a 
Christian, and a Norman gentleman of the blood of 
Montdidier? ’’ 

This rough expostulation was addressed to no other 
than our acquaintance Isaac, who, richly and even mag- 
nificently dressed, was endeavoring to make place in 
the foremost row beneath the gallery for his daughter, 
the beautiful Kebecca, who had joined him at Ashby, and 
who was now hanging on her father’s arm, not a little 
terrified by the popular displeasure which seemed gener- 
ally excited by her parent’s presumption. But Isaac, 
though sufficiently timid on other occasions, knew well 
that at present he had nothing to fear. It was not in 
places of general resort, or where their equals were as- 
sembled, that any avaricious or malevolent noble durst 
offer him injury. 

The complaints of the old man, however, excited the 


52 


IVANHOE 


indignation of the bystanders. One of these, a stout, 
well-set yeoman, arrayed in Lincoln green, having twelve 
arrows stuck in his belt, with a baldric and badge of 
silver, and a bow of six feet length in his hand, turned 
short round, and advised the Jew to remember that all 
the wealth he had acquired by sucking the blood of his 
miserable victims had but swelled him like a bloated 
spider, which might be overlooked while it kept in a 
corner, but would be crushed if it ventured into the 
light. 

This intimation, delivered in Norman-English with a 
firm voice and a stem aspect, made the Jew shrink back; 
and he would have probably withdrawn himself altogether 
from a vicinity so dangerous, had not the attention of 
every one been called to the sudden entrance of 
Prince John, who at that moment entered the lists, 
attended by a gay and numerous train. 

In his joyous caracole round the lists, the attention of 
the Prince was called by the commotion, not yet sub- 
sided, which had attended the ambitious movement of 
Isaac towards the higher places of the assembly. The 
quick eye of Prince John instantly recognized the Jew, 
but was much more agreeably attracted by the beautiful 
daughter of Zion, who, terrified by the tumult, clung 
close to the arm of her aged father. 

By the bald scalp of Abraham,’’ said Prince John, 

yonder Jewess must* be the very model of that perfec- 
tion whose charms drove frantic the wisest king that 
ever lived ! And there is my Mammon of unrighteousness 
too — the Marquis of Marks, the Baron of Byzants, 
contesting for place with penniless dogs, whose thread- 
bare cloaks have not a single cross in their pouches to 
keep the devil from dancing there. By the body of St. 
Mark, my prince of supplies, with his lovely Jewess, shall 


THE LISTS AT ASHBY 


53 


have a place in the gallery ! — What is she, Isaac ? Thy 
wife or thy daughter ? ’ ^ 

My daughter Rebecca, so please your Grace, an- 
swered Isaac, with a low bow. 

Daughter or wife,’’ said John, she should be pre- 
ferred according to her beauty and thy merits. — Who 
sits above there? ” he continued, bending his eye on the 
gallery. ‘‘ Saxon churls, lolling at their lazy length! 
Out upon them! let them sit close, and make room for 
my prince of usurers and his lovely daughter. I ’ll 
make the hinds know they must share the high places 
of the synagogue with those to whom the synagogue 
properly belongs.” 

Those who occupied the gallery, to whom this inju- 
rious and unpolite speech was addressed, were the family 
of Cedric the Saxon, with that of his ally and kinsman, 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh, a personage who, on account 
of his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England, 
was held in the highest respect by all the Saxon natives 
of the north of England. Athelstane, utterly con- 
founded at an order which the manners and feelings of 
the times rendered so injuriously insulting, without 
stirring or making any motion whatever of obedience, 
opened his large gray eyes and stared at the Prince with 
an astonishment which had in it something extremely 
ludicrous. But the impatient John regarded it in no 
such light. 

‘‘ The Saxon porker,” he said, is either asleep or 
minds me not — prick him with your lance, De Bracy, ’ ’ 
speaking to a knight who rode near him, the leader of a 
band of free companions, or mercenaries belonging to no 
particular nation, but attached for the time to any prince 
by whom they were paid. There was, a murmur even 
among the attendants of Prince John; but De Bracy, 


54 


IVANHOE 


whose profession freed him from all scruples, extended 
his long lance over the space which separated the gal- 
lery from the lists, and would have executed the com- 
mands of the Prince before Athelstane the Unready 
had recovered presence of mind sufficient even to draw 
back his person from the weapon, had not Cedric, as 
prompt as his companion was tardy, unsheathed, with 
the speed of lightning, the short sword which he wore, 
and at a single blow severed the point of the lance from 
the handle. The blood rushed into the countenance of 
Prince John. He was about to utter some violent 
threat when he was diverted from his purpose, partly by 
his own attendants, who gathered around him conjuring 
him to be patient, partly by a general exclamation of 
the crowd, uttered in loud applause of the spirited con- 
duct of Cedric. The Prince rolled his eyes in indigna- 
tion, as if to collect some safe and easy victim; and 
chancing to encounter the firm glance of the same archer 
whom we have already noticed, and who seemed to per- 
sist in his gesture of applause, in spite of the frowning 
aspect which the Prince bent upon him, he demanded his 
reason for clamoring thus. 

‘‘ I always add my hollo,’’ said the yeoman, ‘‘ when 
I see a good shot or a gallant blow. ’ ’ 

Sayest thou? ” answered the Prince; ‘‘ then thou 
canst hit the white thyself, I ’ll warrant. ’ ’ 

‘‘ A woodsman’s mark, and at woodsman’s distance, I 
can hit,” answered the yeoman. 

And Wat Tyrrel’s mark, at a hundred yards,” said 
a voice from behind, but by whom uttered could not be 
discerned. 

This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his grand- 
father, at once incensed and alarmed Prince John. He 
satisfied himself, however, with commanding the men-at- 


THE LISTS AT ASHBY 


55 


arms who surrounded the lists to keep an eye on the 
braggart, pointing to the yeoman. 

‘‘ By St. Grizzel,’’ he added, ‘‘ we will try his own 
skill, who is so ready to give his voice to the feats of 
others! ’’ 

I shall not fly the trial,’’ said the yeoman, with the 
composure which marked his whole deportment. 

Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls,” said the 
flery Prince ; ‘ ‘ for, by the light of Heaven, since I have 
said it, the Jew shall have his seat amongst ye 1 ” 

‘ ‘ By no means, an it please your Grace 1 — it is not fit 
for such as we to sit with the rulers of the land,” said 
the Jew, whose ambition for precedence, though it had 
led him to dispute place with the extenuated and im- 
poverished descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no 
means stimulated him to an intrusion upon the priv- 
ileges of the wealthy Saxons. 

‘‘Up, infidel dog, when I command you,” said Prince 
John, “ or I will have thy swarthy hide stripped off and 
tanned for horse-furniture! ” 

Thus urged, the Jew began to ascend the steep and 
narrow steps which led up to the gallery. 

“ Let me see,” said the Prince, “ who dare stop 
him! ” fixing his eye on Cedric, whose attitude inti- 
mated his intention to hurl the Jew down headlong. 

The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba, 
who, springing betwixt his master and Isaac, and ex- 
claiming in answer to the Prince’s defiance, “ Marry, 
that will I! ” opposed to the beard of the Jew a shield 
of brawn, which he plucked from beneath his cloak, and 
with which, doubtless, he had furnished himself lest the 
tournament should prove longer than his appetite 
could endure abstinence. Finding the abomination of 
his tribe opposed to his very nose, while the Jester at 


56 


IVANHOE 


the same time flourished his wooden sword above his 
head, the Jew recoiled, missed his footing, and rolled 
down the steps — an excellent jest to the spectators, who 
set up a loud laughter, in which Prince John and his 
attendants heartily joined. 

Deal me the prize, cousin Prince,’’ said Wamba. 
‘ ‘ I have vanquished my foe in fair fight with sword and 
shield,” he added, brandishing the brawn in one hand 
and the wooden sword in the other. 

Who and what art thou, noble champion? ” said 
Prince John, still laughing. 

‘‘ A fool by right of descent,” answered the Jester; 
‘‘I am Wamba, the son of Witless, who was the son of 
Weatherbrain, who was the son of an alderman.” 

‘‘ Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring,” 
said Prince John, not unwilling, perhaps, to seize an 
apology to desist from his original purpose; ‘‘ to place 
the vanquished beside the victor were false heraldry.” 

“ Knave upon fool were worse,” answered the Jes- 
ter, ‘‘ and Jew upon bacon worst of all.” 

‘‘Many thanks! good fellow,” cried Prince John, 
“ thou pleasest me. — Here, Isaac, lend me a handful of 
byzants.” 

As the Jew, stunned by the request, afraid to refuse 
and unwilling to comply, fumbled in the furred bag 
which hung by his girdle, and was perhaps endeavoring 
to ascertain how few coins might pass for a handful, the 
Prince stooped from his jennet and settled Isaac’s 
doubts by snatching the pouch itself from his side. 
Flinging to Wamba a couple of the gold pieces which it 
contained, he pursued his career round the lists, leaving 
the Jew to the derision of those around him, and himself 
receiving as much applause from the spectators as if he 
had done some honest and honorable action. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE FIRST DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 

In the midst of Prince John’s cavalcade, he suddenly 
stopped, and, appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, de- 
clared the principal business of the day had been for- 
gotten. 

‘ ‘ By my halidom, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ we have neglected. Sir 
Prior, to name the fair Sovereign of Love and Beauty, 
by whose white hand the palm is to be distributed. For 
my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if I 
give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca. ’ ’ 

‘‘Holy Virgin,” answered the Prior, turning up his 
eyes in horror, “a Jewess! — We should deserve 
to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not yet old 
enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my pa- 
tron saint that she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, 
Rowena. ’ ’ 

“ Saxon or Jew,” answered the Prince, “ Saxon or 
Jew, dog or hog, what matters it? I say, name Rebecca, 
were it only to mortify the Saxon churls.” 

A murmur arose even among his own immediate at- 
tendants. 

“ This passes a jest, my lord,” said De Bracy; “ no 
knight here will lay lance in rest if such an insult is 
attempted. Let the fair sovereign’s throne remain un- 
occupied until the conqueror shall be named, and then 
let him choose the lady by whom it shall be filled. It 
will add another grace to his triumph, and teach fair 
57 


58 


IVANHOE 


ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who can 
exalt them to such distinction.” 

The Prince acquiesced, and, assuming his throne, gave 
signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the tourna- 
ment, which were briefly as follows: 

First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers. 

Secondly, any knight proposing to combat might, if he 
pleased, select a special antagonist from among the chal- 
lengers, by touching his shield. If he did so with the 
reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made with 
what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with 
lances at whose extremity a piece of round, flat board 
was fixed, so that no danger w^as encountered, save from 
the shock of the horses and riders. But if the shield 
was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the Imights 
were to fight with sharp weapons, as in actual battle. 

Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished 
their vow, by each of them breaking five lances, the 
Prince was to declare the victor in the first day’s tour- 
ney, who should receive as prize a war-horse of exquisite 
beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this 
reward of valor, it was now declared, he should have 
the peculiar honor of naming the Queen of Love and 
Beauty, by whom the prize should be given on the ensu- 
ing day. 

Fourthly, it was announced that, on the second day, 
there should be a general tournament, in which all 
the knights present, who were desirous to win praise, 
might take part; and being divided into two bands, of 
equal numbers, might fight it out manfully until the 
signal was given by Prince John to cease the combat. 
The elected Queen of Love and Beauty was then to crown 
the knight whom the Prince should adjudge to have 
borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet com- 


THE FIRST DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


59 


posed of thin gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel 
crown. On this second day the knightly games ceased. 
But on that which was to follow, feats of archery, of 
bull-baiting, and other popular amusements were to be 
practiced, for the more immediate amusement of the 
populace. 

The heralds finished their proclamation with their 
usual cry of ‘ ^ Largesse, largesse, gallant knights ! ’ ’ and 
gold and silver pieces were showered on them from the 
galleries. The bounty of the spectators was acknowl- 
edged by the customary shouts of ‘ ‘ Love of ladies ! 
Death of champions! Honor to the generous! Glory 
to the brave! ’’ To which 'the more humble spectators 
added their acclamations, and a numerous band of trum- 
peters the flourish of their martial instruments. When 
these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the 
lists in gay and glittering procession, and none re- 
mained within them save the marshals of the field, who, 
armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues, 
at the opposite ends of the lists. 

Meantime, the enclosed space at the northern extremity 
of the lists, large as it was, was now completely crowded 
with knights desirous to prove their skill against the 
challengers. At length the barriers were opened, and 
five knights, chosen by lot, advanced slowly into the area, 
restraining their fiery steeds, and compelling them to 
move slowly, while, at the same time, they exhibited 
their paces, together with the grace and dexterity of the 
riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound 
of a wild, barbaric music was heard from behind the 
tents of the challengers, where the performers were 
concealed. With the eyes of an immense concourse of 
spectators fixed upon them, the five knights advanced 
up the platform upon which the tents of the challengers 


60 


IVANHOE 


stood, and each touched slightly, and with the reverse 
of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to whom he 
wished to oppose himself. 

The champions retreated to the extremity of the lists, 
wdiere they remained drawn up in a line; while the chal- 
lengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their 
horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended 
from the platform and opposed themselves individually 
to the knights who had touched their respective shields. 

At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started 
out against each other at full gallop ; and such was the 
superior dexterity or good fortune of the challengers, 
that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and 
Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground. The antagonist of 
Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair 
against the crest or the shield of his enemy, swerved so 
much from the direct line as to break the weapon athwart 
the person of his opponent — a circumstance which was 
accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually 
unhorsed, because the latter might happen from accident, 
whereas the former evinced awkwardness and want of 
management of the weapon and the horse. The fifth 
knight alone maintained the honor of his party, and 
parted fairly with the Knight of St. John, both splinter- 
ing their lances without advantage on either side. 

The shouts of the multitude, together with the accla- 
mations of the heralds and the clangor of the trumpets, 
announced the triumph of the victors and the defeat of 
the vanquished. The former retreated to their pavilions, 
and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could, 
withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to 
agree with their victors concerning the redemption of 
their arms and their horses, which, according to the laws 
of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth of their 


THE FIRST DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


61 


number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be 
greeted by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom 
he retreated, to the aggravation, doubtless, of his com- 
panions’ mortification. 

A second and a third party of knights took the field ; 
and although they had various success, yet, upon the 
whole, the advantage decidedly remained with the chal- 
lengers, not one of whom lost his seat or swerved from his 
charge — misfortunes which befell one or two of their 
antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of 
those opposed to them seemed to be considerably damped 
by their continued success. Three Jmights only appeared 
on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the shields of Bois- 
Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves with 
touching those of the three other knights, who had not 
altogether manifested the same strength and dexterity. 
This politic selection did not alter the fortune of the 
field : the challengers were still successful. One of their 
antagonists was overthrown; and both the others failed 
in the attaint, that is, in striking the helmet and shield of 
their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held 
in a direct line, so that the weapon might break unless 
the champion was overthrown. 

After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable 
pause ; nor did it appear that any one was very desirous 
of renewing the contest. The spectators murmured 
among themselves; for, among the challengers, Malvoi- 
sin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their char- 
acters, and the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked 
as strangers and foreigners. Prince John began to talk 
to his attendants about making ready the banquet, and 
the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two 
knights and foiled a third. 


62 


IVANHOE 


At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers 
concluded one of those long and high flourishes with 
which they had broken the silence of the lists, it was 
answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note of 
deflance from the northern extremity. All eyes were 
turned to see the new champion which these sounds an- 
nounced, and no sooner w^ere the barriers opened than he 
paced into the lists. As far as could be judged of a man 
sheathed in armor, the new adventurer did not greatly 
exceed the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender 
than strongly made. His suit of armor was formed of 
steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the device on his 
shield was a young oak tree pulled up by the roots, with 
the Spanish word Desdicliado, signifying Disinherited. 
He was mounted on a gallant black horse, and as he 
passed through the lists he gracefully saluted the Prince 
and the ladies by lowering his lance. The dexterity with 
which he managed his steed, and something of youthful 
grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the 
favor of the multitude, which some of the lower classes 
expressed by calling out, ‘‘ Touch Ralph de Vipont’s 
shield — touch the Hospitaler’s shield; he has the least 
sure seat, he is your cheapest bargain.” 

The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant 
hints, ascended the platform by the sloping alley which 
led to it from the lists, and to the astonishment of all 
present, riding straight up to the central pavilion, struck 
with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. All stood astonished 
at his presumption, but none more than the redoubted 
knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat, and 
who, little expecting so rude a challenge, was standing 
carelessly at the door of the pavilion. 

‘ ‘ Have you confessed yourself, brother, ’ ’ said the Tern- 


THE FIRST DAY OP THE TOURNAMENT 


63 


plar, ‘‘ and have you heard mass this morning, that you 
peril your life so frankly 1 ’ 

‘‘ I am fitter to meet death than thou art,’’ answered 
the Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger 
had recorded himself in the books of the tourney. 

Then take your place in the lists,” said Bois-Guil- 
bert, ‘ ‘ and look your last upon the sun ; for this night 
thou shalt sleep in paradise.” 

“ Many thanks for thy courtesy,” replied the Disin- 
herited Knight, ^ ^ and to requite it, I advise thee to take 
a fresh horse and a new lance, for by my honor you will 
need both.” 

Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined 
his horse backward down the slope which he had as- 
cended, and compelled him in the same manner to move 
backward through the lists, till he reached the northern 
extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation 
of his antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again at- 
tracted the applause of the multitude. 

However incensed at his adversary for the precautions 
which he recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not 
neglect his advice. He changed his horse for a proved 
and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a 
new and tough spear, lest the wood of the former might 
have been strained in the previous encounters. Lastly, 
he laid aside his shield, which had received some little 
damage, and received another from his squires. 

When the two champions stood opposed to each other 
at the two extremities of the lists, public expectation 
was strained to the highest pitch. Few augured the pos- 
sibility that the encounter could terminate well for the 
Disinherited Knight; yet his courage and gallantry se- 
cured the general good wishes of the spectators. 

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the 


64 


IVANHOE 


champions vanished from their posts with the speed of 
lightning, and closed in the center of the lists with the 
shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into shivers up 
to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both 
knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse 
recoil backwards upon its haunches. The address of the 
riders recovered their steeds by use of the bridle and 
spur; and having glared on each other for an instant 
with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of 
their visors, each made a demi-volte, and, retiring to the 
extremity of the lists, received a fresh lance from the 
attendants. 

A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and 
handkerchiefs, and general acclamations, attested the in- 
terest taken by the spectators in this encounter — the 
most equal, as well as the best performed, which had 
graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed 
their station than the clamor of applause was hushed 
into a silence so deep and so dead that it seemed the mul- 
titude were afraid even to breathe. 

A few minutes’ pause having been allowed, that the 
combatants and their horses might recover breath, Prince 
J ohn with his truncheon signed to the trumpets to sound 
the onset. The champions a second time sprung from 
their stations, and closed in the center of the lists, with 
the same speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, 
but not the same equal fortune as before. 

In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the 
center of his antagonist’s shield, and struck it so fair and 
forcibly that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinher- 
ited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that 
champion had, in the beginning of his career, directed 
the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert’s shield, but, 
changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he 


THE FIRST DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


65 


addressed it to the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, 
but which, if attained, rendered the shock more irresist- 
ible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visor, 
where his lance’s point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even 
at this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high rep- 
utation; and had not the girths of his saddle burst, he 
might not have been unhorsed. As it chanced, however, 
saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a 
cloud of dust. 

To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed 
was to the Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, 
stung with madness, both at his disgrace and at the ac- 
clamations with which it was hailed by the spectators, 
he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his 
conqueror. The Disinherited Knight sprung from his 
steed, and also imsheathed his sword. The marshals of 
the field, however, spurred their horses between them, 
and reminded them that the laws of the tournament 
did not, on the present occasion, permit this species of 
encounter. 

‘‘We shall meet again, I trust,’’ said the Templar, 
casting a resentful glance at his antagonist ; ‘ ‘ and where 
there are none to separate us.” 

“ If we do not,” said the Disinherited Knight, “ the 
fault shall not be mine. On foot or on horseback, with 
spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to en- 
counter thee.” 

More and angrier words would have been exchanged, 
but the marshals, crossing their lances betwixt them, 
compelled them to separate. The Disinherited Knight 
returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to his tent, 
where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of 
despair. 

Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called 


66 


IVANHOE 


for a bowl of wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part 
of his helmet, announced that he quaffed it, ‘ ‘ To all true 
English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants/’ 
He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance to 
the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them 
that he should make no election, but was willing to en- 
counter them in the order in which they pleased to 
advance against him. 

The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armor, 
was the first wdio took the field. He bore on a white 
shield a black bull’s head, half defaced by the numerous 
encounters which he had undergone, and bearing the 
arrogant motto, ‘‘ Beware, I am here.” Over this 
champion the Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but 
decisive advantage. Both knights broke their lances 
fairly, but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the en- 
counter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage. 

In the stranger’s third encounter, with Sir Philip de 
Malvoisin, he was equally successful, striking that baron 
so forcibly on the casque that the laces of the helmet 
broke, and Malvoisin, saved from falling only by be- 
ing unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his com- 
panions. 

In his fourth combat, with De Grantmesnil, the Dis- 
inherited Knight showed as much courtesy as he had 
hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De Grantmes- 
nil’s horse, which was young and violent, reared and 
plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the 
rider’s aim, and the stranger, declining to take the ad- 
vantage which this accident afforded him, raised his 
lance, and, passing his antagonist without touching him, 
wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own end of 
the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance 
of a second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined, 


THE FIRST DAY OP THE TOURNAMENT 


67 


avowing himself vanquished as much by the courtesy as 
by the address of his opponent. 

Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger 
triumphs, being hurled to the ground with such force 
that the blood gushed from his nose and his mouth, and 
he was borne senseless from the lists. 

The acclamations of thousands applauded the unani- 
mous award of the Prince and marshals, announcing that 
day’s honors to the Disinherited Knight. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE DISINHERITED KNIGHT NAMES THE QUEEN OP LOVE 
AND BEAUTY 

William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the 
marshals of the field, were the first to offer their con- 
gratulations to the victor, praying him, at the same time, 
to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least, that he 
would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive 
the prize of the day’s tourney from the hands of Prince 
John. The Disinherited Knight, with all knightly cour- 
tesy, declined their request, alleging that he could not 
at this time suffer his face to be seen, for reasons which 
he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists. 
The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for 
amidst the frequent and capricious vows by which knights 
were accustomed to bind themselves in the days of chiv- 
alry, there were none more common than those by which 
they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or 
until some particular adventure was achieved. The mar- 
shals, therefore, pressed no farther into the mystery of 
the Disinherited Knight, but, announcing to Prince John 
the conqueror’s desire to remain unknown, they requested 
permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that 
he might receive the reward of his valor. 

John’s curiosity was excited by the mystery observed 
by the stranger ; and, being already displeased with the 
issue of the tournament, in which the challengers whom 
he favored had been successively defeated by one knight, 
he answered haughtily to the marshals, ‘‘ By the light 

68 


THE QUEEN OP LOVE AND BEAUTY 


69 


of Our Lady^s brow, this same knight hath been disin- 
herited as well of his courtesy as of his lands, since he 
desires to appear before us without uncovering his face. 
— Wot ye, my lords,’’ he said, turning round to his 
train, who this gallant can be that bears himself thus 
proudly? ” 

“ I cannot guess,” answered De Bracy, nor did I 
think there had been within the four seas that girth 
Britain a champion that could bear down these five 
knights in one day’s jousting. By my faith, I shall 
never forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. 
The poor Hospitaler was hurled from his saddle like a 
stone from a sling.” 

Boast not of that,” said a Knight of St. John who 
was present; your Temple champion had no better 
luck. I saw your brave lance, Bois-Guilbert, roll 
thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at every 
turn. ’ ’ 

De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have 
replied, but was prevented by Prince John. Silence, 
sirs!” he said; what unprofitable debate have we 
here? ” 

The victor,” said De Wyvil, still waits the pleas- 
ure of your Highness.” 

‘‘ It is our pleasure,” answered John, ‘‘ that he do so 
wait until we learn whether there is not some one who 
can at least guess at his name and quality. Should he 
remain there till nightfall, he has had work enough to 
keep him warm. ’ ’ 

Your Grace,” said Waldemar Fitzurse, will do less 
than due honor to the victor if you compel him to wait 
till we tell your Highness that which we cannot know; 
at least I can form no guess — unless he be one of the 
good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, 


70 


IVANHOE 


and who are now straggling homeward from the Holy- 
Land/’ 

‘‘ It may be the Earl of Salisbury/’ said De Bracy; 
‘ ‘ he is about the same pitch. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Sir Thomas de Multon, the Knight of Gilsland, 
rather,” said Pitzurse; ‘‘ Salisbury is bigger in the 
bones. ’ ’ A whisper arose among the train, but by whom 
first suggested could not be ascertained : ‘ ‘ It might be 

the King — it might be Richard Coeur-de-Lion himself ! ’ ’ 
Over gods forbode! ” said Prince John, turning 
as pale as death, and shrinking as if blighted by a flash 
of lightning; “ Waldemar! De Bracy! brave knights and 
gentlemen, remember your promises, and stand truly by 
me! ” 

“ Here is no danger impending,” said Waldemar Pitz- 
urse; “ are you so little acquainted with the gigantic 
limbs of your father’s son, as to think they can be held 
within the circumference of yonder suit of armor? — 
De Wyvil and Martival, you wiU best serve the Prince 
by bringing forward the victor to the throne, and ending 
an error that has conjured all the blood from his cheeks. 
— Look at him more closely, ’ ’ he continued ; ^ ‘ your 
Highness will see that he wants three inches of King 
Richard’s height, and twice as much of his shoulder 
breadth. The very horse he backs could not have car- 
ried the ponderous weight of King Richard through a 
single course.” 

While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought for- 
ward the Disinherited Knight to the foot of a wooden 
flight of steps, which formed the ascent from the lists to 
Prince John’s throne. Still discomposed with the idea 
that his brother, so much injured, and to whom he was 
so much indebted, had suddenly arrived in his native 
kingdom, even the distinctions pointed out by Pitzurse 


THE QUEEN OP LOVE AND BEAUTY 


71 


did not altogether remove the Prince’s apprehensions; 
and while, with a short and embarrassed eulogy upon 
his valor, he caused to be delivered to him the war- 
horse assigned as the prize, he trembled lest from the 
barred visor of the mailed form before him an answer 
might be returned in the deep and awful accents of 
Eichard the Lion-hearted. 

But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in 
reply to the compliment of the Prince, which he ac- 
knowledged only with a profound obeisance. 

The horse was led into the lists fully accoutered with 
the richest war-furniture ; which, however, scarcely 
added to the value of the noble creature in the eyes of 
those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the 
pommel of the saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted 
at once upon the back of the steed without making use 
of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his lance, rode 
twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces 
of the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman. 

The Prince made a sign with his truncheon as the 
Knight passed him in his second career around the lists. 
The Knight turned towards the throne, and, sinking his 
lance until the point was within a foot of the ground, 
remained motionless, as if expecting John’s commands, 
while all admired the dexterity with which he instantly 
reduced his fiery steed from a state of high excitation 
to the stillness of an equestrian statue. 

Sir Disinherited Knight,” said Prince John, since 
that is the only title by which we can address you, it is 
now your duty, as well as privilege, to name the fair 
lady who, as Queen of Honor and of Love, is to preside 
over next day’s festival. If, as a stranger in our land, 
you should require the aid of other judgment to guide 
your own, we can only say that Alicia, the daughter of 


72 


IVANHOE 


our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse, has at our court 
been long held the first in beauty as in place. Never- 
theless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on 
whom you please this crown, by the delivery of which to 
the lady of your choice the election of to-morrow’s Queen 
will be formal and complete. — Raise your lance.” 

The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its 
point a coronet of green satin, having around its edge a 
circlet of gold, the upper edge of which was relieved by 
arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably. 

The Disinherited Knight passed the gallery, close to 
that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated 
in the full pride of triumphant beauty ; and, pacing for- 
wards slowly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his 
right of examining the numerous fair faces which 
adorned that splendid circle. 

At length the champion paused beneath the balcony 
in which the Lady Rowena was placed, and the expecta- 
tion of the spectators was excited to the utmost. 

It must be owned that, if an interest displayed in his 
success could have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the 
part of the lists before which he paused had merited his 
predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at the dis- 
comfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the mis- 
carriage of his two malevolent neighbors, Pront-de-Boeuf 
and Malvoisin, had, with his body half stretched over 
the balcony, accompanied the victor in each course, not 
with his eyes only, but with his whole heart and soul. 
The Lady Rowena had watched the progress of the day 
with equal attention, though without openly betraying 
the same intense interest. Even the unmoved Athel- 
stane had shown symptoms of shaking off his apathy, 
when, calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he quaffed 
it to the health of the Disinherited Knight. 


THE QUEEN OP LOVE AND BEAUTY 


73 


Another group, stationed under the gallery occupied 
by the Saxons, had shown no less interest in the fate of 
the day. 

Father Abraham! ” said Isaac of York, when the 
first course was run betwixt the Templar and the Disin- 
herited Knight, how fiercely that Gentile rides! Ah, 
the good horse that was brought all the long way from 
Barbary, he takes no more care of him than if he were a 
wild ass ’s colt — and the noble armor that was worth so 
many zecchins to Joseph Pareira, the armorer of Milan, 
besides seventy in the hundred of profits, he cares for it 
as little as if he had found it in the highways! ’’ 

‘‘ If he risks his own person and limbs, father,” said 
Rebecca, ‘ ‘ in doing such a dreadful battle, he can scarce 
be expected to spare his horse and armor. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Child ! ’ ’ replied Isaac, somewhat heated, ‘ ‘ thou 
knowest not what thou speakest. His neck and limbs 
are his own; but his horse and armor belong to — 
Holy Jacob! what was I about to say? Nevertheless, 
it is a good youth. — See, Rebecca ! — see, he is again 
about to go up to battle against the Philistine ! — Pray, 
child — pray for the safety of the good youth; and of 
the speedy horse and the rich armor. — God of my 
fathers! ” he again exclaimed, he hath conquered, and 
the uncircumcised Philistine hath fallen before his lance, 
even as Og the King of Bashan, and Sihon, King of the 
Amorites, fell before the sword of our fathers ! — Surely 
he shall take their gold and their silver, and their war- 
horses, and their armor of brass and of steel, for a prey 
and for a spoil.” 

The same anxiety did the worthy Jew display during 
every course that was run, seldom failing to hazard a 
hasty calculation concerning the value of the horse and 
armor which were forfeited to the champion upon each 


74 


IVANHOE 


new success. There had been therefore no small interest 
taken in the success of the Disinherited Knight by those 
who occupied the part of the lists before which he now 
paused. 

Whether from indecision or some other motive of hesi- 
tation, the champion of the day remained stationary for 
more than a minute, while the eyes of the silent audience 
were riveted upon his motions ; and then, gradually and 
gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited 
the coronet which it supported at the feet of the fair 
Kowena. The trumpets instantly sounded, while the 
heralds proclaimed the Lady Eowena the Queen of 
Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with 
suitable penalties those who should be disobedient to her 
authority. 

There was some murmuring among the damsels of 
Norman descent, who were as much unused to see the 
preference given to a Saxon beauty as the Norman nobles 
were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which 
they themselves had introduced. But these sounds of 
disaffection were drowned by the popular shout of ‘‘ Long 
live the Lady Eowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of 
Love and Beauty! ” To which many in the lower area 
added, ‘ ‘ Long live the Saxon Princess ! long live the 
race of the immortal Alfred ! ’ ’ 

However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince 
John and to those around him, he saw himself neverthe- 
less obliged to confirm the nomination of the victor. 
Calling to horse, he left his throne, mounted his jennet, 
and accompanied by his train, he again entered the lists. 
Spurring his horse, as if to give vent to his vexation, 
he made the animal bound forward to the gallery 
where Eowena was seated, with the crown still at her 
feet. 


THE QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY 


75 


Assume/’ he said, fair lady, the mark of your sov- 
ereignty, to which none vows homage more sincerely than 
ourself, John of Anjou; and if it please you to-day, with 
your noble sire and friends, to grace our banquet in the 
Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to 
whose service we devote to-morrow. ’ ’ 

Eowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her 
in his native Saxon. 

The Lady Eowena,” he said, possesses not the lan- 
guage in which to reply to your courtesy, or to sustain 
her part in your festival. I also, and the noble Athel- 
stane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language, and 
practice only the manners of our fathers. We therefore 
decline with thanks your Highness ’s courteous invitation 
to the banquet. To-morrow the Lady Eowena will take 
upon her the state to which she has been called by the 
free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the 
acclamations of the people. ’ ’ 

So saying, he lifted the coronet and placed it upon 
Eowena ’s head, in token of her acceptance of the tempo- 
rary authority assigned to her. 

‘‘ What says he? ” said Prince John, affecting not to 
understand the Saxon language, in which, however, he 
was well skilled. The purport of Cedric’s speech was 
repeated to him in French. ‘‘ It is well,” he said; ‘‘ to- 
morrow we will ourself conduct this mute sovereign to 
her seat of dignity. — You, at least, Sir Knight,” he 
added, turning to the victor, who had remained near the 
gallery, ' ' will this day share our banquet ? ’ ’ 

The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a low and 
hurried voice, excused himself by pleading fatigue, 
and the necessity of preparing for to-morrow’s en- 
counter. 

It is well,” said Prince John, haughtily; although 


76 


IVANHOE 


unused to such refusals, we will endeavor to digest our 
banquet as we may, though ungraced by the most suc- 
cessful in arms, and his elected Queen of Beauty.” 

So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his glit- 
tering train, and his turning his steed for that purpose 
was the signal for the breaking up and dispersion of the 
spectators. 

Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended 
pride, especially when combined with conscious want of 
desert, John had hardly proceeded three paces ere again, 
turning around, he fixed an eye of stern resentment upon 
the yeoman who had displeased him in the early part of 
the day, and issued his commands to the men-at-arms 
who stood near: On your life, suffer not that fellow to 

escape.” 

The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince with 
the same unvaried steadiness which had marked his 
former deportment, saying, with a smile: ‘‘ I have no 
intention to leave Ashby until the day after to-morrow. 
I must see how Staffordshire and Leicestershire can draw 
their bows — the forests of Needwood and Charnwood 
must rear good archers.” 

I,” said Prince John to his attendants, but not in di- 
rect reply — ‘‘ I will see how he can draw his own; and 
woe betide him unless his skill should prove some apology 
for his insolence! ” Prince John resumed his retreat 
from the lists, and the dispersion of the multitude be- 
came general. 

The victor of the day, anxious to withdraw himself 
from popular notice, accepted the accommodation of one 
of those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, 
the use of which was courteously tendered him by the 
marshals of the field. 

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge 


THE QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY 


77 


was erected; and these now began to glimmer through 
the twilight, announcing the toil of the armorers, which 
was to continue through the whole night, in order to re- 
pair or alter the suits of armor to be used again on the 
morrow. 


CHAPTER X 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC FOR THE ARMOR 

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his 
pavilion than squires and pages in abundance tendered 
their services to disarm him, to bring fresh attire, and to 
offer him the refreshment of the bath. But he refused 
all other assistance save that of his own squire, or rather 
yoeman — a clownish-looking man, who, wrapped in a 
cloak of dark-colored felt, and having his head and face 
half-buried in a Norman bonnet made of black fur, 
seemed to affect the incognito as much as his master. 

The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal ere his 
menial announced to him that five men, each leading a 
barbed steed, desired to speak with him. The Disin- 
herited Knight had exchanged his armor for the long 
robe usually worn by those of his condition, which, being 
furnished with a hood, concealed the features almost as 
completely as the visor of the helmet. 

He therefore stepped boldly forth to the front of his 
tent, and found in attendance the squires of the chal- 
lengers, each of whom led his master’s charger, loaded 
with the armor in which he had that day fought. 

‘‘ According to the laws of chivalry,” said the foremost 
of these men, I, Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the re- 
doubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, make offer to 
you, styling yourself for the present the Disinherited 
Knight, of the horse and armor used by the said Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert in this day’s passage of arms, leaving it 

78 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC 


79 


with your nobleness to retain or to ransom the same, 
according to your pleasure ; for such is the law of arms. ’ ’ 

The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, 
and then stood to await the decision of the Disinherited 
Knight. 

“ To you four, sirs,’’ replied the Knight, addressing 
those who had last spoken, ‘‘ and to your honorable and 
valiant masters, I have one common reply. Commend 
me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should 
do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never 
be used by braver cavaliers. — I would I could here end 
my message to these gallant knights ; but, being in truth 
and earnest the Disinherited, I must be thus far bound 
to your masters, that they will, of their courtesy, be 
pleased to ransom their steeds and armor, since that 
which I wear I can hardly term mine own. ’ ’ 

‘‘We stand commissioned, each of us,” answered the 
squire of Reginald Pront-de-Boeuf, “ to offer a hundred 
zecchins in ransom of these horses and suits of armor.” 

“It is sufficient,” said the Disinherited Knight. 
“ Half the sum my present necessities compel me to 
accept; of the remaining half, distribute one moiety 
among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the other half 
betwixt the heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, 
and attendants.” 

The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, ex- 
pressed their deep sense of a courtesy and generosity not 
often practiced, at least upon a scale so extensive. The 
Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse to 
Baldwin, the squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. “ From 
your master,” said he, “ I will accept neither arms nor 
ransom. Say to him in my name, that our strife is not 
ended — no, not till we have fought as well with swords 
as with lances, as well on foot as on horseback. To this 


80 


IVANHOE 


mortal quarrel he has himself defied me, and I shall not 
forget the challenge. — Meantime, let him be assured that 
I hold him not as one of his companions, with whom I 
can with pleasure exchange courtesies ; but rather as one 
with whom I stand upon terms of mortal defiance.” 

‘‘ My master,” answered Baldwin, “ knows how to re- 
quite scorn with scorn, and blows with blows, as well as 
courtesy with courtesy. Since you disdain to accept from 
him any share of the ransom at which you have rated the 
arms of the other knights, I must leave his armor and 
his horse here, being well assured that he will never 
deign to mount the one nor wear the other. ’ ’ 

“ You have spoken well, good squire,” said the Disin- 
herited Knight, “ well and boldly, as it beseemeth him 
to speak who answers for an absent master. Leave not, 
however, the horse and armor here. Eestore them to 
thy master ; or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, 
good friend, for thine own use. So far as they are mine, 
I bestow them upon you freely.” 

Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his 
companions; and the Disinherited Knight entered the 
pavilion. 

Thus far, Gurth,” said he, addressing his attendant, 

the reputation of English chivalry hath not suffered 
in my hands.” 

‘‘ And I,” said Gurth, for a Saxon swineherd, have 
not ill played the personage of a Norman squire-at- 
arms.” 

“Yea, but,” answered the Disinherited Knight, “ thou 
hast ever kept me in anxiety lest thy clownish bearing 
should discover thee.” 

“ Tush! ” said Gurth, “ I fear discovery from none, 
saving my playfellow, Wamba the Jester, of whom I 
could never discover whether he were most knave or 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC 


81 


fool. Yet I could scarce choose but laugh, when my 
old master passed so near to me, dreaming all the while 
that Gurth was keeping his porkers many a mile off, 
in the thickets and swamps of Eotherwood. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Trust me, I will requite the risk you run for my love, 
Gurth,’’ said the Knight. ‘‘ Meanwhile, I pray you to 
accept these ten pieces of gold. ’ ’ 

I am richer,” said Gurth, putting them into his 
pouch, than ever was swineherd or bondsman.” 

^ ‘ Take this bag of gold to Ashby, ’ ’ continued his mas- 
ter, ‘‘ and find out Isaac the Jew of York, and let him 
pay himself for the horse and arms with which his credit 
supplied me.” 

We must now change the scene to the village of Ashby, 
or rather to a country house in its vicinity belonging to a 
wealthy Israelite, with whom Isaac, his daughter, and 
retinue, had taken up their quarters. In an apartment, 
small indeed, but richly furnished, Rebecca was seated 
on a heap of embroidered cushions, which, piled along a 
low platform that surrounded the chamber, served in- 
stead of chairs and stools. She was watching the mo- 
tions of her father with a look of anxious and filial 
affection, while he paced the apartment with dejected 
mien and disordered step. 0 Jacob! ” he exclaimed 
— ‘ ‘ O all ye twelve Holy Fathers of our tribe ! what a 
losing venture is this for one who hath duly kept every 
jot and tittle of the law of Moses! — Fifty zecchins 
wrenched from me at one clutch, and by the talons of a 
tyrant! ” 

“ But, father,” said Rebecca, you seemed to give the 
gold to Prince John willingly.” 

‘‘ Willingly! the blotch of Egypt upon him! — Will- 
ingly, saidst thou ? — Aye, as willingly as when, in the 


82 


IVANHOE 


Gulf of Lyons, I flung over my merchandise to lighten 
the ship, while she labored in the tempest — robed the 
seething billows in my choice silks — perfumed their 
briny foam with myrrh and aloes — enriched their cav- 
erns with gold and silver work! And was not that an 
hour of unutterable misery, though my hands made the 
sacriflce? ’’ 

So saying, he resumed his discontented walk through 
the apartment. 

The evening was now becoming dark, when a Jewish 
servant entered the apartment and placed upon the table 
two silver lamps, fed with perfumed oil; the richest 
wines and the most delicate refreshments were at the 
same time displayed by another Israelitish domestic on a 
small ebony table, inlaid with silver. The servant in- 
formed Isaac that a Nazar ene (so they termed Chris- 
tians while conversing among themselves) desired to 
speak with him. Isaac at once replaced on the table the 
untasted glass of Greek wine which he had just raised 
to his lips, and saying hastily to his daughter, Kebecca, 
veil thyself, ’ ’ commanded the stranger to be admitted. 

Just as Rebecca had dropped over her fine features a 
screen of silver gauze which reached to her feet, the door 
opened, and Gurth entered, wrapped in the ample folds 
of his Norman mantle. His appearance was rather sus- 
picious than prepossessing, especially as, instead of dof- 
fiing his bonnet, he pulled it still deeper over his rugged 
brow. 

Art thou Isaac the Jew of York? ” said Gurth. 

‘‘ I am,’’ replied Isaac, and who art thou? ” 

“ That is not to the purpose,” answered Gurth. 

‘‘ As much as my name is to thee,” replied Isaac; 

‘ ^ for without knowing thine, how can I hold intercourse 
with thee? ” 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC 


83 


Easily/^ answered Gurth; ‘‘ I, being to pay money, 
must know that I deliver it to the right person; thou, 
who art to receive it, wilt not, I think, care very greatly 
by whose hands it is delivered/^ 

Oh,’’ said the Jew, you are come to pay monies? 
Holy Father Abraham ! that altereth our relation to each 
other. And from whom dost thou bring it? ” 

‘‘ From the Disinherited Knight,” said Gurth, vic- 
tor in this day’s tournament. It is the price of the 
armor supplied to him by Kirjath Jairam of Leicester, 
on thy recommendation. The steed is restored to thy 
stable. I desire to know the amount of the sum which 
I am to pay for the armor.” 

I said he was a good youth! ” exclaimed Isaac, with 
joyful exultation. “ A cup of wine will do thee no 
harm,” he added, filling and handing to the swineherd 
a richer draught than Gurth had ever before tasted. 

And how much money,” continued Isaac, hast thou 
brought with thee? ” 

Holy Virgin! ” said Gurth, setting down the cup, 
what nectar these unbelieving dogs drink, while true 
Christians are fain to quaff ale as muddy and thick as 
the draff we give to hogs ! — What money have I brought 
with me? ” continued the Saxon, when he had finished 
this uncivil ejaculation, even but a small sum; some- 
thing in hand the whilst. What, Isaac ! thou must bear 
a conscience, though it be a Jewish one.” 

‘‘ Nay, but,” said Isaac, ‘‘ thy master has won goodly 
steeds and rich armors with the strength of his lance 
and of his right hand — but ’tis a good youth — the Jew 
will take these in present payment, and render him back 
the surplus.” 

My master has disposed of them already.” 

‘‘ Ah ! that was wrong,” said the Jew — ‘‘ that was the 


84 


IVANHOE 


part of a fool. No Christian here could buy so many 
horses and armor — no Jew except myself would give 
him half the values. But thou hast a hundred zecchins 
with thee in that bag, ’ ’ said Isaac, prying under Gurth ’s 
cloak, ‘‘ it is a heavy one.” 

I have heads for cross-bow bolts in it,” said Gurth, 
readily. 

‘‘ Well, then,” said Isaac, panting and hesitating be- 
tween habitual love of gain and a new-born desire to be 
liberal in the present instance, ‘‘ if I should say that I 
would take eighty zecchins for the good steed and the 
rich armor, which leaves me not a guilder's profit, have 
you money to pay me? ” 

Barely,” said Gurth, though the sum demanded was 
more reasonable than he expected, ^ ‘ and it will leave my 
master nigh penniless. Nevertheless, if such be your 
least offer, I must be content.” 

‘‘ Fill thyself another goblet of wine,” said the Jew. 

Ah! eighty zecchins is too little. It leaveth no profit 
for the usages of the monies ; and, besides, the good horse 
may have suffered wrong in this day’s encounter. Oh, 
it was a hard and a dangerous meeting I man and steed 
rushing on each other like wild bulls of Bashan; the 
horse cannot but have had wrong.” 

And I say,” replied Gurth, he is sound, wind and 
limb ; and you may see him now in your stable. And I 
say, over and above, that seventy zecchins is enough for 
the armor, and I hope a Christian’s word is as good as a 
Jew’s. If you will not take seventy, I will carry this 
bag ” (and he shook it till the contents jingled) back 
to my master.” 

“ Nay, nay! ” said Isaac; ‘‘ lay down the talents — 
the shekels — the eighty zecchins, and thou shalt see I 
will consider thee liberally.” 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC 


85 


Gurth at length complied, telling out eighty zecchins 
upon the table; and the Jew delivered out to him an 
acquittance for the horse and suit of armor. The Jew’s 
hand trembled for joy as he wrapped up the first seventy 
pieces of gold. The last ten he told over with much 
deliberation, pausing, and saying something as he took 
each piece from the table and dropped it into his purse. 
It seemed as if his avarice were struggling with his bet- 
ter nature, compelling him to pouch zecchin after zec- 
chin, while his generosity urged him to restore some 
part at least to his benefactor, or as a donation to his 
agent. His whole speech ran nearly thus: 

‘‘ Seventy-one, seventy-two — thy master is a good 
youth — seventy- three — an excellent youth — seventy- 
four — that piece hath been clipped within the ring — 
seventy-five — and that looketh light of weight — sev- 
enty-six — when thy master wants money, let him come 
to Isaac of York — seventy-seven — that is, with reason- 
able security.” Here he made a considerable pause, and 
Gurth had good hope that the last three pieces might 
escape the fate of their comrades ; but the enumeration 
proceeded; ‘‘ Seventy-eight — thou art a good fellow — 
seventy-nine — and deservest something for thyself — ” 

Here the Jew paused again, and looked at the last 
zecchin, intending, doubtless, to bestow it upon Gurth. 
He weighed it upon the tip of his finger, and made it 
ring by dropping it upon the table. Had it rung too 
flat, or had it felt a hair’s breath too light, generosity 
had carried the day ; but, unhappily for Gurth, the chime 
was full and true, the zecchin plump, newly coined, and 
a grain above weight. Isaac could not find it in his heart 
to part with it, so dropped it into his purse as if in ab- 
sence of mind, with the words, Eighty completes the 
tale, and I trust thy master will reward thee handsomely. 

7 


86 


IVANHOE 


Surely/’ he added, looking earnestly at the bag, thou 
hast more coins in that pouch ? ’ ’ 

Gurth grinned, which was his nearest approach to a 
laugh, as he replied, “ About the same quantity which 
thou hast just told over so carefully.” He then folded 
the quittance, and put it under his cap, adding, “ Peril 
of thy beard, Jew, see that this be full and ample! ” 
He filled himself, unbidden, a third goblet of wine, and 
left the apartment without ceremony. 

“ Rebecca,” said the Jew, that Ishmaelite hath gone 
somewhat beyond me. Nevertheless, his master is a good 
youth — aye, and I am well pleased that he hath gained 
shekels of gold and shekels of silver, even by the speed 
of his horse and by the strength of his lance, which, like 
that of Goliath the Philistine, might vie with a weaver’s 
beam.” 

As he turned to receive Rebecca’s answer, he observed 
that during his chaffering with Gurth she had left the 
apartment unperceived. 

In the meanwhile, Gurth had descended the stair, and, 
having reached the dark ante-chamber or hall, was puz- 
zling to discover the entrance, when a figure in white, 
shown by a small silver lamp which she held in her hand, 
beckoned him into a side apartment. Gurth followed 
her, and found, to his joyful surprise, that his fair guide 
was the beautiful Jewess whom he had seen at the 
tournament, and a short time in her father’s apart- 
ment. 

She asked him the particulars of his transaction with 
Isaac, which he detailed accurately. 

“ My father did but jest with thee, good fellow,” said 
Rebecca; he owes thy master deeper kindness than 
these arms and steed could pay, were their value tenfold. 
What sum didst thou pay my father even now? ” 


HOW GURTH PAID ISAAC 


87 


Eighty zecchins/’ said Gurth, surprised at the ques- 
tion. 

‘ ' In this purse, ' ’ said Rebecca, ‘ ‘ thou wilt find a hun- 
dred. Restore to thy master that which is his due, and 
enrich thyself with the remainder. Haste — begone — 
stay not to render thanks! and beware how you pass 
through this crowded town, where thou mayest easily 
lose both thy burden and thy life. — Reuben,’’ she added, 
clapping her hands together, light forth this stranger, 
and fail not to draw lock and bar behind him.” 

By St. Dunstan,” said Gurth, as he stumbled up the 
dark avenue, this is no Jewess, but an angel from 
heaven ! Ten zecchins from my brave young master — 
twenty from this pearl of Zion ! — Oh, happy day ! — 
Such another, Gurth, will redeem thy bondage, and make 
thee a brother as free of thy guild as the best. And 
then do I lay down my swineherd’s horn and staff, and 
take the freeman’s sword and buckler, and follow my 
young master to the death, without hiding either my 
face or my name. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XI 


GURTH AND THE OUTLAWS. 

The nocturnal adventures of Gurth were not yet con- 
cluded. After passing one or two straggling houses 
which stood in the outskirts of the village, he found him- 
self in a deep lane, running between two banks over- 
grown with hazel and holly, while here and there a 
dwarf oak hung its arms altogether across the path. 
Just as he attained the upper end of the lane, where the 
underwood was thickest, four men sprung upon him, two 
from each side of the road, and seized him so fast that 
resistance, if at first practicable, would have been now 
too late. — ‘ ‘ Surrender your charge, ’ ’ said one of them ; 

we are the deliverers of the commonwealth, who ease 
every man of his burden.^’ 

‘‘You should not ease me of mine so lightly,’’ mut- 
tered Gurth, whose surly honesty could not be tamed 
even by the pressure of immediate violence, “ had I it 
but in my power to give three strokes in its defense.” 

“We shall see that presently,” said the robber; and, 
speaking to his companions, he added, ‘ ‘ bring along the 
knave. I see he would have his head broken as well 
as his purse cut, and so be let blood in two veins at 
once.” 

Gurth was hurried along, and found himself in a 
straggling thicket. His rough conductors stopped un- 
expectedly in an irregular open space, on which the 
beams of the moon fell without much interruption from 

88 


GURTH AND THE OUTLAWS 


89 


boughs and leaves. Here his captors were joined by 
two other persons, apparently belonging to the gang. 
They had short swords by their sides, and quarter-staves 
in their hands, and Gurth could now observe that all six 
wore visors, which rendered their occupation a matter of 
no question. 

‘‘ What money hast thou, churl? ’’ said one of the 
thieves. 

‘‘ Thirty zecchins of my own property,” answered 
Gurth, doggedly. 

‘ ‘ A forfeit — a forfeit, ’ ’ shouted the robbers ; “ a 
Saxon hath thirty zecchins, and returns sober from a 
village ! An undeniable and unredeemable forfeit of all 
he hath about him.” 

I hoarded it to purchase my freedom,” said Gurth. 

‘‘ Thou art an ass,” replied one of the thieves; three 
quarts of double ale had rendered thee as free as thy 
master, aye, and freer too, if he be a Saxon like thy- 
self.” 

‘‘ A sad truth,” replied Gurth; but if these same 
thirty zecchins will buy my freedom from you, unloose 
my hands and I will pay them to you. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Hold,” said one who seemed to exercise some au- 
thority over the others; ‘‘ this bag which thou bearest, 
as I can feel through thy cloak, contains more coin than 
thou hast told us of.” 

‘‘ It is the good knight my master’s,” answered Gurth, 
“ of which, assuredly, I would not have spoken a word, 
had you been satisfied with working your will upon mine 
own property.” 

‘‘ Thou art an honest fellow,” replied the robber, ‘‘ I 
warrant thee; and we worship not St. Nicholas so de- 
voutly but what thy thirty zecchins may yet escape, if 
thou deal uprightly with us. Meantime, render up thy 


90 


IVANHOE 


trust for the time.” So saying, he took from Gurth’s 
breast the large leathern pouch, in which the purse given 
him by Rebecca was inclosed, as well as the rest of the 
zecchins, and then continued his interrogation — ‘ ‘ Who 
is thy master? ” 

“ The Disinherited Knight,” said Gurth. 

‘‘ Whose good lance,” replied the robber, ‘‘ won a 
prize in to-day’s tourney? What is his name and line- 
age? ” 

It is his pleasure,” answered Gurth, that they be 
concealed ; and from me, assuredly, you will learn nought 
of them.” 

‘‘ What is thine own name and lineage? ” 

To tell that,” said Gurth, ‘‘ might reveal my mas- 
ter’s.” 

‘‘ Thou art a saucy groom,” said the robber; but of 
that anon. How comes thy master by this gold ? Is it 
of his inheritance, or by what means hath it accrued to 
him? ” 

By his good lance,” answered Gurth. These bags 
contain the ransom of four good horses and four good 
suits of armor.” 

‘‘ How much is there? ” demanded the robber. 

Two hundred zecchins.” 

“Only two hundred zecchins!” said the bandit; 
“ your master hath dealt liberally by the vanquished, 
and put them to a cheap ransom. Name those who paid 
the gold.” 

Gurth did so. 

“ The armor and horse of the Templar Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert — at what ransom were they held ? — Thou 
seest thou canst not deceive me.” 

“ My master,” replied Gurth, “ will take nought from 
the Templar save his life ’s blood. They are on terms of 


GURTH AND THE OUTLAWS 


91 


mortal defiance, and cannot hold courteous intercourse 
together. ’ ’ 

Indeed! ’’ repeated the robber, and paused after he 
had said the word. ‘‘ And what wert thou now doing at 
Ashby with such a charge in thy custody ? ’ ’ 

I went thither to render to Isaac the Jew of York,’’ 
replied Gurth, ^ ^ the price of a suit of armor with which 
he fitted my master for this tournament.” 

‘ ^ And how much didst thou pay to Isaac ? — Methinks, 
to judge by weight, there is still two hundred zecchins in 
this pouch.” 

I paid to Isaac,” said the Saxon, eighty zecchins, 
and he restored me a hundred in lieu thereof.” 

How! what! ” exclaimed all the robbers at once; 
darest thou trifle with us, that thou tellest such im- 
probable lies? ” 

What I tell you,” said Gurth, is as true as the 
moon is in heaven. You will And the just sum in a 
silken purse within the leathern pouch, and separate 
from the rest of the gold.” 

Bethink thee, man,” said the Captain, thou speak- 
est of a Jew — of an Israelite, — as unapt to restore gold 
as the dry sand of his deserts to return the cup of water 
which the pilgrim spills upon them. ’ ’ 

“ There is no more mercy in them,” said another of 
the banditti, than in an unbribed sheriff’s officer.” 

It is, however, as I say,” said Gurth. 

“ Strike a light instantly,” said the Captain; ‘‘ I will 
examine this said purse ; and if it be as this fellow says, 
the Jew’s bounty is little less miraculous than the stream 
which relieved his fathers in the wilderness.” 

A light was procured accordingly, and the robber pro- 
ceeded to examine the purse. The others crowded around 
him, and even two who had hold of Gurth relaxed their 


92 


IVANHOE 


grasp while they stretched their necks to see the issue of 
the search. Availing himself of their negligence, by a 
sudden exertion of strength and activity Gurth shook 
himself free of their hold, and might have escaped, could 
he have resolved to leave his master ^s property behind 
him. But such was no part of his intention. He 
wrenched a quarter-staff from one of the fellows, struck 
down the Captain, who was altogether unaware of his 
purpose, and had well-nigh repossessed himself of the 
pouch and treasure. The thieves, however, were too 
nimble for him, and again secured both the bag and the 
trusty Gurth. 

‘‘ Knave! said the Captain, getting up, “ thou hast 
broken my head, and with other men of our sort thou 
wouldst fare the worse for thy insolence. But thou shalt 
know thy fate instantly. First let us speak of thy mas- 
ter; the knight’s matters must go before the squire’s, 
according to the due order of chivalry. Stand thou fast 
in the meantime — if thou stir again, thou shalt have that 
will make thee quiet for thy life — Comrades! ” he then 
said, addressing his gang, this purse is embroidered 
with Hebrew characters, and I well believe the yeoman ’s 
tale is true. The errant knight, his master, must needs 
pass us toll-free. He is too like ourselves for us to make 
booty of him, since dogs should not worry dogs where 
wolves and foxes are to be found in abundance.” 

“ Like us ! ” answered one of the gang ; “ I should like 
to hear how that is made good.” 

Why,” answered the Captain, ‘‘ is he not poor and 
disinherited as we are? — Doth he not win his sub- 
stance at the sword’s point as we do? — Hath he not 
beaten Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, even as we would 
beat them if we could ? — Is he not the enemy to life and 
death of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whom we have so much 


GURTH AND THE OUTLAWS 


93 


reason to fear? And were all this otherwise, wouldst 
thou have us show a worse conscience than a Jew? ” 

‘ ‘ Nay, that were a shame, ’ ’ muttered the other fellow ; 
‘ ‘ and yet, when I served in the band of stout old Gande- 
lyn, we had no such scruples of conscience. And this 
insolent peasant — he too, I warrant me, is to be dis- 
missed scatheless? ’’ 

Not if thou canst scathe him,’’ replied the Captain. 

Here, fellow,” continued he, addressing Gurth, 
“ canst thou use the stalf, that thou startst to it so 
readily? ” 

I think,” said Gurth, thou shouldst be best able to 
reply to that question. ’ ’ 

“ Nay, by my troth, thou gavest me a round knock,” 
replied the Captain; do as much for this fellow, and 
thou shalt pass scot-free, and if thou dost not — why, by 
my faith, as thou art such a sturdy knave, I think I must 
pay thy ransom myself. — Take thy staff. Miller, ’ ’ he 
added, and keep thy head; and do you others let the 
fellow go, and give him a staff — there is light enough to 
lay on load by.” 

The two champions, being alike armed with quarter- 
staves, stepped forward into the center of the open space, 
in order to have the full benefit of the moonlight; the 
thieves in the meantime laughing, and crying to their 
comrade, ‘‘ Miller! beware thy toll-dish.” The Miller, 
on the other hand, holding his quarter-staff by the middle, 
and making it flourish round his head after the 
fashion which the French call making the little 
mill,” exclaimed boastfully, Come on, churl, an 
thou darest; thou shalt feel the strength of a miller’s 
thumb 1 ’ ’ 

If thou be’st a miller,” answered Gurth, undaunt- 
edly, making his weapon play around his head with equal 


94 


IVANHOE 


dexterit}", ‘ ‘ thou art doubly a thief, and I, as a true man, 
bid thee defiance. ’ ^ 

So saying, the two champions closed together, and for 
a few minutes they displayed great equality in strength, 
courage, and skill, intercepting and returning the blows 
of their adversary with the most rapid dexterity, while, 
from the continued clatter of their weapons, a person at 
a distance might have supposed that there were at least 
six persons engaged on each side. Long they fought 
equally, until the Miller began to lose temper at finding 
himself so stoutly opposed. This gave Gurth, whose 
temper was steady, though surly, the opportunity of ac- 
quiring a decided advantage. 

The Miller pressed furiously forward, dealing blows 
with either end of his weapon alternately, and striving to 
come to half-staff distance, while Gurth defended him- 
self against the attack, keeping his hands about a yard 
asunder, and covering himself by shifting his weapon 
with great celerity, so as to protect his head and body. 
Thus did he maintain the defensive, making his eye, foot, 
and hand keep true time, until, observing his antagonist 
to lose wind, he darted the staff at his face with his left 
hand ; and, as the Miller endeavored to parry the thrust, 
he slid his right hand down to his left, and with the full 
swing of the weapon struck his opponent on the left side 
of the head, who instantly measured his length upon the 
greensward. 

“ Well and yeomanly done! ’’ shouted the robbers; 
‘‘ fair play and Old England for ever! The Saxon has 
saved both his purse and his hide, and the Miller has met 
his match. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Thou mayst go thy ways, my friend,’’ said the Cap- 
tain, addressing Gurth, in special confirmation of the 
general voice, and I will cause two of my comrades to 


GURTH AND THE OUTLAWS 


95 


guide thee by the best way to thy master’s pavilion, and 
to guard thee from night-walkers that might have less 
tender consciences than ours. Take heed, however,” he 
added sternly; remember thou hast refused to tell thy 
name — ask not after ours, nor endeavor to discover who 
or what we are. ’ ’ 

Gurth thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and prom- 
ised to attend to his recommendation. Two of the out- 
laws, taking up their quarter-staves, and desiring Gurth 
to follow close in the rear, walked roundly forward along 
a by-path, which traversed a thicket and the broken 
ground adjacent to it. On the very verge of the thicket 
two men spoke to his conductors, and receiving an answer 
in a whisper, withdrew into the wood, and suffered them 
to pass unmolested. 

When they arrived on the open heath, the thieves 
guided him straight forward to the top of a little emi- 
nence, whence he could see, spread beneath him in the 
moonlight, the palisades of the lists, and the glimmering 
pavilions pitched at either end, with the pennons which 
adorned them fluttering in the moonbeam. 

Here the thieves stopped. We go with you no far- 
ther,” said they; ‘‘ it were not safe that we should do 
so. — Remember the warning you have received: keep 
secret what has this night befallen you, and you will have 
no room to repent it ; neglect what is now told you, and 
the Tower of London shall not protect you against our 
revenge.” 

Good night to you, kind sirs,” said Gurth; ‘‘ I shall 
remember your orders, and trust that there is no offense 
in wishing you a safer and an honester trade.” 

Thus they parted, the outlaws returning in the direc- 
tion from whence they had come, and Gurth proceeding 
to the tent of his master, to whom, notwithstanding the 


96 


IVANHOE 


injunction he had received, he communicated the whole 
adventures of the evening. 

The Disinherited Knight was filled with astonishment, 
no less at the generosity of Rebecca, by which, however, 
he resolved he would not profit, than that of the robbers, 
to whose profession such a quality seemed totally for- 
eign. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE SECOND DAY OP THE TOURNAMENT 

Morning arose in unclouded splendor; and ere the 
sun was much above the horizon, the idlest or the most 
eager of the spectators appeared on the common, moving 
to the lists as to a general center, in order to secure a 
favorable situation for viewing the games. 

The marshals and their attendants appeared next on 
the field, together with the heralds, for the purpose of 
receiving the names of the knights who intended to joust, 
with the side which each chose to espouse. This was a 
necessary precaution, in order to secure equality betwixt 
the two bodies who should be opposed to each other. 

Accprding to due formality, the Disinherited Knight 
was to be considered as leader of the one body, while 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been rated as having 
done second-best in the preceding day, was named first 
champion of the other band. Those who had concurred 
in the challenge adhered to his party, of course, except- 
ing only Ralph de Vipont, whom his fall had rendered 
unfit so soon to put on his armor. There was no want 
of distinguished and noble candidates to fill up the ranks. 
About fifty knights were inscribed as desirous of com- 
bating upon each side, when the marshals declared that 
no more could be admitted. 

About the hour of ten o’clock the whole plain was 
crowded with horsemen, horsewomen, and foot-passen- 
gers, hastening to the tournament: and shortly after, a 
97 


98 


IVANHOE 


grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John and 
his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant 
to take share in the games, as well as others who had no 
such intention. 

About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with 
the Lady Rowena, unattended, however, by Athelstane. 
This Saxon lord had arrayed his tall and strong person 
in armor, in order to take his place among the combat- 
ants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had 
chosen to enlist himself on the part of the Knight Tem- 
plar. It had been with smothered displeasure that the 
proud though indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the 
victor of the preceding day select Rowena as the object of 
that honor which it became his privilege to confer. In 
order to punish him for a preference which seemed to 
interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of his 
strength, and to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed 
great skill in arms, had determined not only to deprive 
the Disinherited Knight of his powerful succor, but, if 
an opportunity should occur, to make him feel the weight 
of his battle-axe. 

De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, 
in obedience to a hint from him, had joined the party of 
the challengers, John being desirous to secure, if possi- 
ble, the victory to that side. On the other hand, many 
other knights, both English and Norman, natives and 
strangers, took part against the challengers, the more 
readily that the opposite band was to be led by so dis- 
tinguished a champion as the Disinherited Knight had 
proved himself. 

As soon as Prince John observed that the destined 
Queen of the day had arrived upon the field, assuming 
that air of courtesy which sat well upon him when he 
was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet her, 


SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


99 


doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted 
the Lady Rowena from her saddle, while his followers 
uncovered at the same time, and one of the most distin- 
guished dismounted to hold her palfrey. 

‘‘ It is thus,’’ said Prince John, ‘‘ that we set the duti- 
ful example of loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, 
and are ourselves her guide to the throne which she must 
this day occupy. — Ladies,” he said, ‘‘ attend your Queen, 
as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like 
honors. ’ ’ 

So saying, the Prince marshaled Rowena to the seat 
of honor opposite his own, while the fairest and most 
distinguished ladies present crowded after her to obtain 
places as near as possible to their temporary sovereign. 

No sooner was Rowena seated than a burst of music, 
half drowned by the shouts of the multitude, greeted her 
new dignity. Meantime, the sun shone fierce and bright 
upon the polished arms of the knights of either side, 
who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and 
held eager conference together concerning the best mode 
of arranging their line of battle and supporting the con- 
flict. 

The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of 
the tourney should be rehearsed. These were calculated 
in some degree to abate the dangers of the day — a pre- 
caution the more necessary as the conflict was to be main- 
tained with sharp swords and pointed lances. 

The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust 
with the sword, and were confined to striking. A knight, 
it was announced, might use a mace or battle-axe at 
pleasure; but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A 
knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any 
other on the opposite side in the same predicament; but 
mounted horsemen were in that case forbidden to assail 


100 


IVANHOE 


him. When any knight could force his antagonist to the 
extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with 
his person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield 
himself vanquished, and his armor and horse were placed 
at the disposal of the conqueror. A knight thus over- 
come was not permitted to take farther share in the 
combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable 
to recover his feet, his squire or page might enter the 
lists and drag his master out of the press; but in that 
case the knight was adjudged vanquished, and his arms 
and horse declared forfeited. The combat was to cease 
as soon as Prince John should throw down his leading 
staff, or truncheon — another precaution usually taken to 
prevent the unnecessary effusion of blood by the too long 
endurance of a sport so desperate. Any knight breaking 
the rules of the tournament, or otherwise transgressing 
the rules of honorable chivalry, was liable to be stripped 
of his arms, and, having his shield reversed, to be placed 
in that posture astride upon the bars of the palisade, and 
exposed to public derision, in punishment of his un- 
knightly conduct. Having announced these precautions, 
the heralds concluded with an exhortation to each good 
knight to do his duty, and to merit favor from the Queen 
of Beauty and Love. 

This proclamation having been made, the heralds with- 
drew to their stations. The knights, entering at either 
end of the lists in long procession, arranged themselves 
in a double file, precisely opposite to each other, the 
leader of each party being in the center of the foremost 
rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had care- 
fully arranged the ranks of his party, and stationed every 
one in his place. 

The marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the 
utmost exactness, lest either party had more or fewer 


SECOND DAY OP THE TOURNAMENT 


101 


than the appointed number. The tale was found exactly 
complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists, 
and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pro- 
nounced the signal words, ‘‘ Let go! ’’ The trumpets 
sounded as he spoke — the spears of the champions were 
at once lowered and placed in the rests — the spurs were 
dashed into the flanks of the horses, and the two foremost 
ranks of either party rushed upon each other in full 
gallop, and met in the middle of the lists with a shock 
the sound of which was heard at a mile ’s distance. 

When the fight became visible, half the knights on each 
side were dismounted — some by the dexterity of their 
adversary’s lance; some by the superior weight and 
strength of opponents, which had borne down both horse 
and man; some lay stretched on earth as if never more 
to rise; some had already gained their feet, and were 
closing hand to hand with those of their antagonists who 
were in the same predicament ; and several on both sides, 
who had received wounds by which they were disabled, 
were stopping their blood by their scarfs, and endeav- 
oring to extricate themselves from the tumult. The 
mounted knights, whose lances had been almost all broken 
by the fury of the encounter, were now closely engaged 
with their swords, shouting their war-cries, and exchang- 
ing buffets, as if honor and life depended on the issue 
of the combat. 

The tumult was presently increased by the advance of 
the second rank on either side, which, acting as a reserve, 
now rushed on to aid their companions. The followers 
of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted: Ha! Beau-seant! 

Beau-seant ! For the Temple ! For the Temple ! ” The 
opposite party shouted in answer: Desdichado ! Des- 

dichado! ” which watchword they took from the motto 
upon their leader’s shield. 

8 


102 


IVANHOE 


The champions thus encountering each other with the 
utmost fury, and with alternate success, the tide of battle 
seemed to flow now toward the southern, now toward the 
northern, extremity of the lists, as the one or the other 
party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows and 
the shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the 
sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those 
who fell, and lay rolling defenseless beneath the feet of 
the horses. The splendid armor of the combatants was 
now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every 
stroke of the sword and battle-axe. And between every 
pause was heard the voice of the heralds exclaiming, 
‘‘ Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! 
— Fight on — death is better than defeat ! — Fight on, 
brave knights ! — for bright eyes behold your deeds ! ’ ’ 

Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of 
all endeavored to discover the leaders of each band, who, 
mingling in the thick of the flght, encouraged their com- 
panions both by voice and example. Both displayed 
great feats of gallantry, nor did either Bois-Guilbert or 
the Disinherited Knight And in the ranks opposed to 
them a champion who could be termed their unquestioned 
match. They repeatedly endeavored to single out each 
other, spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the 
fall of either leader might be considered as decisive of 
victory. Such, however, was the crowd and confusion 
that, during the earlier part of the conflict, their efforts 
to meet were unavailing, and they were repeatedly sepa- 
rated by the eagerness of their followers, each of whom 
was anxious to win honor by measuring his strength 
against the leader of the opposite party. 

But when the field became thin by the numbers on 
either side who had yielded themselves vanquished, had 
been compelled to the extremity of the lists, or been other- 


SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


103 


wise rendered incapable of continuing the strife, the Tem- 
lar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered 
hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, 
joined to rivalry of honor, could inspire. Such was the 
address of each in parrying and striking, that the spec- 
tators broke forth into a unanimous and involuntary 
shout, expressive of their delight and admiration. 

But at this moment the party of the Disinherited 
Knight had the worst; the gigantic arm of Front-de- 
Boeuf on the one flank, and the ponderous strength of 
Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing 
those immediately opposed to them. Finding themselves 
freed from their immediate antagonists, it seems to have 
occurred to both these knights at the same instant that 
they would render the most decisive advantage to their 
party by aiding the Templar in his contest with his 
rival. Turning their horses, therefore, at the same mo- 
ment, the Norman spurred against the Disinherited 
Knight on the one side and the Saxon on the other. It 
was utterly impossible that the object of this unequal and 
unexpected assault could have sustained it, had he not 
been warned by a general cry from the spectators, who 
could not but take interest in one exposed to such disad- 
vantage. 

Beware ! beware ! Sir Disinherited ! ’’ was shouted so 
universally that the knight became aware of his danger ; 
and, striking a full blow at the Templar, he reined back 
his steed in the same moment, so as to escape the charge 
of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf . These knights, there- 
fore, their aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite 
sides betwixt the object of their attack and the Templar, 
almost running their horses against each other ere they 
could stop their career. Recovering their horses, how- 
ever, and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued 


104 


IVANHOE 


their united purpose of bearing to the earth the Disin- 
herited Knight. 

Nothing could have saved him except the remarkable 
strength and activity of the noble horse which he had won 
on the preceding day. 

This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois- 
Guilbert was wounded, and those of Front-de-Boeuf and 
Athelstane were both tired with the weight of their gigan- 
tic masters, clad in complete armor, and with the pre- 
ceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship 
of the Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble 
animal which he mounted, enabled him for a few minutes 
to keep at sword ^s point his three antagonists, turning 
and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon the wing, 
keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rush- 
ing now against the one, now against the other, dealing 
sweeping blows with his sword, without waiting to re- 
ceive those which were aimed at him in return. 

But although the lists rang with the applauses of his 
dexterity, it was evident that he must at last be over- 
powered; and the nobles around Prince John implored 
him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to 
save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being over- 
come by odds. 

Not I, by the light of Heaven! answered Prince 
John; this same springal, who conceals his name and 
despises our proifered hospitality, hath already gained 
one prize, and may now afford to let others have their 
turn.’’ As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident 
changed the fortune of the day. 

There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight 
a champion in black armor, mounted on a black horse, 
large of size, tall, and to all appearance powerful and 
strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted. This 


SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


105 


knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had 
hitherto evinced very little interest in the event of the 
fight, beating off with seeming ease those combatants who 
attacked him, but neither pursuing his advantages nor 
himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto 
acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the 
tournament, a circumstance which procured him among 
the spectators the name of The Black Sluggard. 

At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, 
when he discovered the leader of his party so hard 
bested; for, setting spurs to his horse, which was quite 
fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, ex- 
claiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, Desdichado, 
to the rescue! ” It was high time; for, while the Disin- 
herited Knight was pressing upon the Templar, Front- 
de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; 
but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt 
a stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished 
helmet, lighted with violence scarcely abated on the 
chamfron of the steed, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the 
ground, both horse and man equally stunned by the 
fury of the blow. The Black Sluggard then turned his 
horse upon Athelstane of Coningsburgh ; and, his own 
sword having been broken in his encounter with Pront- 
de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand of the bulky 
Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one 
familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed him such 
a blow upon the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless 
on the field. Having achieved this double feat, for 
which he was the more highly applauded that it was 
totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to re- 
sume the sluggishness of his character, returning calmly 
to the northern extremity of the lists, leaving his leader 
to cope as he best could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. 


106 


IVANHOE 


This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as for- 
merly. The Templar’s horse had bled much, and gave 
way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight ’s charge. 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, encumbered 
with the stirrup, from which he was unable to draw his 
foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his 
fatal sword over the head of his adversary, and com- 
manded him to yield himself; when Prince John saved 
him the mortification of confessing himself vanquished 
by casting down his warder and putting an end to the 
conflict. 

Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, 
one of the most gallantly contested tournaments of that 
age ; for although only four knights, including one who 
was smothered by the heat of his armor, had died upon 
the field, yet upwards of thirty were desperately 
wounded, four or five of whom never recovered. Several 
more were disabled for life ; and those who escaped best, 
carried the marks of the conflict to the grave with them. 
Hence it is always mentioned in the old records as the 
Gentle and Joyous Passage of Arms of Ashby. 

It being now the duty of Prince John to name the 
knight who had done best, he determined that the honor 
of the day remained with the knight whom the popular 
voice had termed the Black Sluggard. It was pointed 
out to the Prince that the victory had been in fact won 
by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the day, 
had overcome six champions with his own hand, and who 
had finally unhorsed and struck down the leader of the 
opposite party. But Prince John adhered to his own 
opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited Knight and 
his party had lost the day but for the powerful assist- 
ance of the Knight of the Black Armor. 

To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus 


SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 


107 


preferred was nowhere to be found. He had left the lists 
immediately when the conflict ceased, and had been ob- 
served by some spectators to move down one of the forest 
glades with the same slow pace and listless and indiffer- 
ent manner which had procured him the epithet of the 
Black Sluggard. After he had been summoned twice by 
sound of trumpet and proclamation of the heralds, it 
became necessary to name another to receive the honors 
which had been assigned to him. Prince John had now 
no further excuse for resisting the claim of the Disinher- 
ited Knight, whom, therefore, he named the champion of 
the day. 

Through a fleld slippery with blood and encumbered 
with broken armor and the bodies of slain and wounded 
horses, the marshals of the lists again conducted the vic- 
tor to the foot of Prince John’s throne. 

Disinherited Knight,” said Prince John, ‘‘ since by 
that title only you will consent to be known to us, we a 
second time award to you the honors of this tournament, 
and announce to you your right to claim and receive from 
the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty the chaplet 
of honor which your valor has justly deserved.” 

The Knight bowed low and gracefully, but returned no 
answer. 

While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained 
their voices in proclaiming honor to the brave and glory 
to the victor, while ladies waved their silken kerchiefs 
and embroidered veils, and while all ranks joined in a 
clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted 
the Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of 
that throne of honor which was occupied by the Lady 
Rowena. 

On the lower step of this throne the champion was 
made to kneel down. Indeed, his whole action since the 


108 


IVANHOE 


fight had ended seemed rather to have been upon the im- 
pulse of those around him than from his own free will; 
and it was observed that he tottered as they guided him 
the second time across the lists. Rowena, descending 
from her station with a graceful and dignified step, was 
about to place the chaplet which she held in her hand 
upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals ex- 
claimed with one voice, ‘ ‘ It must not be thus — his head 
must be bare.” The Knight muttered faintly a few 
words, which were lost in the hollow of his helmet; but 
their purport seemed to be a desire that his casque might 
not be removed. 

Whether from love of form or from curiosity, the mar- 
shals paid no attention to his expressions of reluctance, 
but unhelmed him by cutting the laces of his casque, and 
undoing the fastening of his gorget. When the helmet 
was removed, the well-formed yet sunburned features of 
a young man of twenty-five were seen, amid a profusion 
of short, fair hair. His countenance was as pale as death, 
and marked in one or two places with streaks of blood. 

Rowena had no sooner beheld him than she uttered a 
faint shriek; but at once summoning up the energy of 
her disposition, and compelling herself, as it were, to 
proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence 
of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of 
the victor the splendid chaplet which was the destined 
reward of the day, and pronounced in a clear and distinct 
tone these words: I bestow on thee this chaplet. Sir 

Knight, as the meed of valor assigned to this day’s vic- 
tor.” Here she paused a moment, and then firmly 
added, ‘‘ And upon brows more worthy could a wreath of 
chivalry never be placed ! ’ ’ 

The knight stooped his head and kissed the hand of the 
lovely Sovereign by whom his valor had been rewarded ; 


SECOND DAY OP THE TOURNAMENT 


109 


and then, sinking yet farther forward, lay prostrate at 
her feet. 

There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had 
been struck mute by the sudden appearance of his ban- 
ished son, now rushed forward, as if to separate him 
from Eowena. But this had been already accomplished 
by the marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of 
Ivanhoe’s swoon, had hastened to undo his armor, and 
found that the head of a lance had penetrated his breast- 
plate and inflicted a wound in his side. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 

The name of Ivanhoe was no sooner pronounced than 
it flew from mouth to mouth with all the celerity with 
which eagerness could convey and curiosity receive it. 
It was not long ere it reached the circle of the Prince, 
whose brow darkened as he heard the news. Looking 
around him, however, with an air of scorn, ‘ ‘ My lords, ’ ’ 
said he, ‘‘ what think ye of the doctrine the learned tell 
us concerning innate attractions and antipathies? Me- 
thinks that I felt the presence of my brother’s minion, 
even when I least guessed whom yonder suit of armor 
inclosed.” 

‘‘ Front-de-Boeuf must prepare to restore his flef of 
Ivanhoe,” said De Bracy. 

Aye,” answered Waldemar Pitzurse, this gallant is 
likely to reclaim the castle and manor which Richard 
assigned to him, and which your Highness’s generosity 
has since given to Pront-de-Boeuf . ” 

‘‘ Pront-de-Boeuf,” replied ‘John, is a man more 
willing to swallow three manors such as Ivanhoe than to 
disgorge one of them.” 

Waldemar, whose curiosity had led him towards the 
place where Ivanhoe had fallen to the ground, now re- 
turned. ‘ ‘ The gallant, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ is likely to give your 
Highness little disturbance, and to leave Pront-de-Boeuf 
in the quiet possession of his gains; he is severely 
wounded. ’ ’ 


110 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 


111 


Whatever becomes of him/’ said Prince John, he is 
victor of the day ; and were he tenfold our enemy, or the 
devoted friend of our brother, which is perhaps the same, 
his wounds must be looked to — our own physician shall 
attend him.” 

A stern smile curled the Prince’s lip as he spoke. 
Waldemar Pitzurse hastened to reply that Ivanhoe was 
already removed from the lists, and in the custody of his 
friends. 

“ I was somewhat afflicted,” he said, ‘‘ to see the grief 
of the Queen of Love and Beauty, whose sovereignty of 
a day this event has changed into mourning. I am not a 
man to be moved by a woman ’s lament for her lover, but 
this same Lady Eowena suppressed her sorrow with such 
dignity of manner that it could only be discovered by her 
folded hands and her tearless eye, which trembled as it 
remained fixed on the lifeless form before her. ’ ’ 

Who is this Lady Kowena,” said Prince John, of 
whom we have heard so much ? ’ ’ 

A Saxon heiress of large possessions,” replied the 
Prior Aymer; a rose of loveliness, and a jewel of 
wealth.” 

‘‘We shall cheer her sorrows,” said Prince John, 
“ and amend her blood, by wedding her to a Norman. 
She seems a minor, and must therefore be at our royal 
disposal in marriage. — How sayst thou, De Bracy? 
What thinkst thou of gaining fair lands and livings, by 
wedding a Saxon, after the fashion of the followers of 
the Conqueror? ” 

If the lands are to my liking, my lord,” answered 
De Bracy, “ it will be hard to displease me with a 
bride.” 

“We will not forget it,” said Prince John; “ and 
that we may instantly go to work, command our seneschal 


112 


IVANHOE 


presently to order the attendance of the Lady Rowena 
and her company — that is, the rude churl her guardian, 
and the Saxon ox whom the Black Knight struck down 
in the tournament — upon this evening’s banquet. — 
De Bigot,” he added to his seneschal, ‘‘ thou wilt word 
this our second summons so courteously as to gratify the 
pride of these Saxons, and make it impossible for them 
again to refuse ; although, by the bones of Becket, cour- 
tesy to them is casting pearls before swine.” 

Prince John had proceeded thus far, and was about to 
give the signal for retiring from the lists, when a small 
billet was put into his hand. 

Prom whence? ” said Prince John, looking at the 
person by whom it was delivered. 

‘‘ From foreign parts, my lord, but from whence I 
know not,” replied his attendant. ‘‘ A Frenchman 
brought it hither, who said he had ridden night and day 
to put it into the hands of your Highness. ’ ’ 

The Prince looked narrowly at the superscription, and 
then at the seal, placed so as to secure the flox-silk with 
which the billet was surrounded, and which bore 
the impression of three fleurs-de-lis. John then 
opened the billet with apparent agitation, which visi- 
bly and greatly increased when he had perused the 
contents : 

‘ ‘ Take heed to yourself, for the Devil is unchained ! ’ 
The Prince turned as pale as death. Recovering from 
the first effects of his surprise, he took Waldemar Pitz- 
urse and De Bracy aside, and put the billet into their 
hands successively. “ It means,” he added, in a falter- 
ing voice, ‘‘ that my brother Richard has obtained his 
freedom.” 

This may be a false alarm or a forged letter,” said 
De Bracy. 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 


113 


It is France’s own hand and seal,” replied Prince 
John. 

‘‘ It is time, then,” said Pitzurse, ‘‘ to draw our party 
to a head, either at York or some other centrical place. 
A few days later, and it will be indeed too late. Your 
Highness must break short this present mummery.” 

‘ ‘ The yeomen and commons, ’ ’ said De Bracy, ^ ‘ must 
not be dismissed discontented, for lack of their share in 
the sports.” 

The day,” said Waldemar, is not yet very far 
spent — let the archers shoot a few rounds at the target, 
and the prize be adjudged. This will be an abundant 
fulfillment of the Prince’s promises, so far as this herd of 
Saxon serfs is concerned.” 

I thank thee, Waldemar,” said the Prince; thou 
remindest me, too, that I have a debt to pay to that inso- 
lent peasant who yesterday insulted our person. Our 
banquet also shall go forward to-night as we proposed. 
Were this my last hour of power, it should be an hour 
sacred to revenge and to pleasure.” 

The sound of the trumpets soon recalled those specta- 
tors who had already begun to leave the field ; and proc- 
lamation was made that Prince John, suddenly called by 
high and peremptory public duties, held himself obliged 
to discontinue the entertainments of to-morrow’s festival; 
nevertheless, that, unwilling so many good yeomen 
should depart without a trial of skill, he was pleased to 
appoint them, before leaving the ground, presently to ex- 
ecute the competition of archery intended for the morrow. 
To the best archer a prize was to be awarded, being a 
bugle-horn, mounted with silver, and a silken baldric 
richly ornamented with a medallion of St. Hubert, the 
patron of silvan sport. 

More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves 


114 


IVANHOE 


as competitors, several of whom were rangers and under- 
keepers in the royal forests of Needwood and Charn- 
wood. When, however, the archers understood with 
whom they were to be matched, upwards of twenty with- 
drew themselves from the contest, unwilling to encounter 
the dishonor of almost certain defeat. For in those 
days the skill of each celebrated marksman was well 
known. 

The diminished list of competitors for silvan fame still 
amounted to eight. Prince John stepped from his royal 
seat to view more nearly the persons of these chosen 
yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. Having 
satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for 
the object of his resentment, whom he observed standing 
on the same spot, and with the same composed counte- 
nance as upon the preceding day. 

‘‘ Fellow,’’ said Prince John, I guessed by thy inso- 
lent babble thou wert no true lover of the long-bow, and 
I see thou darest not adventure thy skill among such 
merry men as stand yonder.” 

Under favor, sir,” replied the yeoman, I have 
another reason for refraining to shoot, beside the fearing 
discomfiture and disgrace.” 

And what is thy other reason? ” said Prince John, 
who, for some cause which perhaps he could not himself 
have explained, felt a painful curiosity respecting this 
individual. 

Because,” replied the woodsman, I know not if 
these yeomen and I are used to shoot at the same marks ; 
and because, moreover, I know not how your Grace might 
relish the winning of a third prize by one who has un- 
wittingly fallen under your displeasure.” 

Prince John colored as he put the question, ‘‘ What 
is thy name, yeoman? ” 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 


115 


‘‘ Locksley/’ answered the yeoman. 

Then, Locksley/’ said Prince John, thon shalt 
shoot in thy turn, when these yeomen have displayed 
their skill. If thou earnest the prize, I will add to it 
twenty nobles ; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be stripped 
of thy Lincoln green and scourged out of the lists with 
bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart. ’ ' 

And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager? ’’ 
said the yeoman. Tour Grace’s power, supported by 
so many men-at-arms, may indeed easily strip and 
scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw 
my bow. ’ ’ 

“ If thou refusest my fair proffer,” said the Prince, 
the Provost of the lists shall cut thy bowstring, break 
thy bow and arrows, and expel thee from the presence 
as a faint-hearted craven.” 

‘ ^ This is no fair chance you put on me, proud Prince, ’ ’ 
said the yeoman, to compel me to peril myself against 
the best archers of Leicester and Staffordshire, under 
the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. 
Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure.” 

‘‘ Look to him close, men-at-arms,” said Prince John; 
his heart is sinking; I am jealous lest he attempt 
to escape the trial. — And do you, good fellows, shoot 
boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready for 
your refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won. ’ ’ 
One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered 
their shafts yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four 
arrows shot in succession, ten were fixed in the target, 
and the others ranged so near it that, considering the 
distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. 
Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the 
inner ring were shot by Hubert, a forester in the service 
of Malvoisin, who was accordingly pronounced victorious. 


116 


IVANHOE 


‘‘ Now, Locksley,’’ said Prince John to the bold yeo- 
man, with a bitter smile, ‘ ‘ wilt thou try conclusions with 
Hubert, or wilt thou yield up bow, baldric, and quiver to 
the Provost of the sports? ’’ 

‘ ‘ Sith it be no better, ’ ’ said Locksley, ‘ ‘ I am content 
to try my fortune; on condition that when I have shot 
two shafts at yonder mark of Hubert ’s, he shall be bound 
to shoot one at that which I shall propose.’^ 

That is but fair,’’ answered Prince John, “ and it 
shall not be refused thee. — If thou dost beat this brag- 
gart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle with silver pennies for 
thee.” 

‘ ‘ A man can but do his best^ ’ ’ answered Hubert ; ‘ ‘ but 
my grandsire drew a good long-bow at Hastings, and I 
trust not to dishonor his memory. ’ ’ 

The former target was now removed, and a fresh one 
of the same size placed in its room. Hubert, who, as 
victor in the first trial of skill, had the right to shoot 
first, took his aim with great deliberation, long measur- 
ing the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand 
his bended bow, with the arrow placed on the string. 
At length he made a step forward, and, raising the bow at 
the full stretch of his left arm, till the center or grasp- 
ing-place was nigh level with his face, he drew his bow- 
string to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, 
and lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not 
exactly in the center. 

You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert,” said 
his antagonist, bending his bow, or that had been a 
better shot. ’ ’ 

So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to 
pause upon his aim, Locksley stepped to the appointed 
station, and shot his arrow as carelessly in appearance 
as if he had not even looked at the mark. He was 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 


117 


speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the 
bowstring, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer 
to the white spot which marked the center than that of 
Hubert. 

By the light of Heaven!’’ said Prince John to 
Hubert, an thou suffer that runagate knave to over- 
come thee, thou art w^orthy of the gallows ! ’ ’ 

Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. ‘ ^ An 
your Highness were to hang me,” he said, a man can 
but do his best. Nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good 
bow — ” 

^ ‘ The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his genera- 
tion ! ” interrupted John. Shoot, knave, and shoot thy 
best, or it shall be the worse for thee ! ’ ’ 

Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and, not 
neglecting the caution which he had received from his 
adversary, he made the necessary allowance for a very 
light air of wind which had just risen, and shot so suc- 
cessfully that his arrow alighted in the very center of 
the target. 

A Hubert! a Hubert! ” shouted the populace, more 
interested in a known person than in a stranger. ‘‘ In 
the clout ! — in the clout ! — a Hubert forever ! ” 

‘ ‘ Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley, ’ ’ said the 
Prince, with an insulting smile. 

I will notch his shaft for him, however,” replied 
Locksley. 

And letting fiy his arrow with a little more precaution 
than before, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, 
which it split to shivers. The people who stood around 
were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity that they 
could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual 
clamor. This must be the devil, and no man of flesh 
and blood, ’ ’ w^hispered the yeomen to each other ; ‘ ‘ such 
9 


118 


IVANHOB 


archery was never seen since a bow was first bent in 
Britain/’ 

‘‘ And now,” said Locksley, ‘‘ I will crave your Grace’s 
permission to plant such a mark as is used in the North 
Country ; and welcome every yeoman who shall try a shot 
at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he loves best. ’ ’ 
He then turned to leave the lists. ‘‘ Let your guards 
attend me, ’ ’ he said, ^ ‘ if you please ; I go but to cut a 
rod from the next willow-bush. ’ ’ 

Prince John made a signal that some attendants should 
follow him in case of his escape ; but the cry of ‘ ‘ Shame ! 
shame! ” which burst from the multitude induced him 
to alter his ungenerous purpose. 

Locksley returned almost instantly with a willow 
wand about six feet in length, perfectly straight, and 
rather thicker than a man’s thumb. He began to peel 
this with great composure, observing at the same time 
that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so 
broad as had hitherto been used was to put shame upon 
his skill. ‘‘ For his own part,” he said, and in the land 
where he was bred, men would as soon take for their 
mark King Arthur’s round table, which held sixty 
knights around it. A child of seven years old,” he said, 
might hit yonder target with a headless shaft; but,” 
added he, walking deliberately to the other end of the 
lists, and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, 
‘ ‘ he that hits that rod at five score yards, I call him an 
archer fit to bear both bow and quiver before a king, an 
it were the stout King Richard himself.” 

My grandsire,” said Hubert, ‘‘ drew a good bow at 
the battle of Hastings, and never shot at such a mark in 
his life — and neither will I. If this young yeoman can 
cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers — or rather, I 
yield to the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any 


THE PRIZE FOR ARCHERY 


119 


human skill; a man can but do his best, and I will not 
shoot where I am sure to miss. I might as well shoot at 
a wheat straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white 
streak which I can hardly see.’’ 

Cowardly dog! ” said Prince John. Sirrah Locks- 
ley, do thou shoot; but if thou hittest such a mark, I 
will say thou art the first man ever did so.” 

Locksley again bent his bow, but on the present occa- 
sion looked with attention to his weapon, and changed 
the string, which he thought was no longer truly round, 
having been a little frayed by the two former shots. He 
then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multi- 
tude awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer 
vindicated their opinion of his skill; his arrow split the 
willow rod against which it was aimed. A jubilee of 
acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in admira- 
tion of Locksley ’s skill, lost for an instant his dislike to 
his person. These twenty nobles,” he said, which, 
with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own ; we 
will make them fifty if thou wilt take livery and service 
with us as a yeoman of our body-guard, and be near to 
our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow 
or so true an eye direct a shaft.” 

Pardon me, noble Prince,” said Locksley; but I 
have vowed that, if ever I take service, it should be with 
your royal brother King Eichard. These twenty nobles 
I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a 
bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty 
not refused the trial, he would have hit the wand as well 
as I.” 

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance 
the bounty of the stranger; and Locksley, anxious to 
escape further observation, mixed with the crowd, and 
was seen no more. 


CHAPTER XIV 


TO GET ME A WIFE ’’ 

Prince John held his high festival in the Castle of 
Ashby. The purveyors of the Prince, who exercised on 
this and other occasions the full authority of royalty, had 
swept the country of all that could be collected which 
was esteemed fit for their master’s table. Guests also 
were invited in great numbers; and Prince John had 
extended his invitation to a few distinguished Saxon 
and Danish families, as well as to the Norman nobility 
and gentry of the neighborhood. 

Prince John received Cedric and Athelstane with dis- 
tinguished courtesy, and expressed his disappointment, 
without resentment, when the indisposition of Rowena 
was alleged by the former as a reason for her not 
attending upon his gracious summons. 

The long feast had at length its end; and, while the 
goblet circulated freely, men talked of the feats of the 
preceding tournament — of the unknown victor in the 
archery games, of the Black Knight, whose self-denial 
had induced him to withdraw from the honors he had 
w’^on, and of the gallant Ivanhoe, who had so dearly 
bought the honors of the day. 

We drink this beaker,” said Prince John, to the 
health of Wilfred of Ivanhoe, champion of this Passage 
of Arms, and grieve that his wound renders him absent 
from our board. — Let all fill to the pledge, and espe- 

120 


TO GET ME A WIFE 


121 


cially Cedric of Eotherwood, the worthy father of a son 
so promising/^ 

‘ ‘ No, my lord, ’ ’ replied Cedric, standing up, and plac- 
ing on the table his untasted cup, ‘ ‘ I yield not the name 
of son to the disobedient youth who at once despises my 
commands and relinquishes the manners and customs of 
his fathers. Wilfred left my homely dwelling to mingle 
with the gay nobility of your brother’s court, where he 
learned to do those tricks of horsemanship which you 
prize so highly. He left it contrary to my wish and 
command; and in the days of Alfred that would have 
been termed disobedience — aye, and a crime severely 
punishable. ’ ’ 

I think,” said Prince John, after a moment’s pause, 
‘‘ that my brother proposed to confer upon his favorite 
the rich manor of Ivanhoe.” 

‘‘ He did endow him with it,” answered Cedric; nor 
is it my least quarrel with my son that he stooped to 
hold, as a feudal vassal, the very domains which his 
fathers possessed in free and independent right.” 

We shall then have your willing sanction, good 
Cedric,” said Prince John, to confer this fief upon a 
person whose dignity will not be diminished by holding 
land of the British crown. — Sir Reginald Front-de- 
Boeuf,” he said, turning towards that baron, I trust 
you will so keep the goodly barony of Ivanhoe that Sir 
Wilfred shall not incur his father’s farther displeasure 
by again entering upon that fief. ’ ’ 

By St. Anthony ! ” answered the black-browed giant, 
‘‘ I will consent that your Highness shall hold me a 
Saxon, if either Cedric or Wilfred, or the best that ever 
bore English blood, shall wrench from me the gift with 
which your Highness has graced me.” 

‘‘ Whoever shall call thee Saxon, Sir Baron,” replied 


122 


IVANHOE 


Cedric, offended at a mode of expression by which the 
Normans frequently expressed their habitual contempt 
of the English, will do thee an honor as great as it is 
undeserved/’ 

Front-de-Boeuf would have replied, but Prince John’s 
petulance and levity got the start. 

Assuredly,” said he, my lords, the noble Cedric 
speaks truth; and his race may claim precedence over 
us as much in the length of their pedigrees as in the 
longitude of their cloaks.” 

They go before us indeed in the field — as deer 
before dogs,” said Malvoisin. 

‘‘ And with good right they may go before us — for- 
get not,” said the Prior Aymer, the superior decency 
and decorum of their manners.” 

Their singular abstemiousness and temperance,” 
said De Bracy, forgetting the plan which promised him 
a Saxon bride. 

Together with the courage and conduct,” said Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert, ‘‘ by which they distinguished them- 
selves at Hastings and elsewhere.” 

While, with smooth and smiling cheek, the courtiers, 
each in turn, followed their Prince ’s example, and aimed 
a shaft of ridicule at Cedric, the face of the Saxon be- 
came inflamed with passion. At length he spoke, and, 
addressing himself to Prince John as the head and front 
of the offense which he had received, Whatever,” he 
said, have been the follies and vices of our race, a 
Saxon would have been held vile and worthless who 
should in his own hall, and while his own wine-cup 
passed, have treated, or suffered to be treated, an unof- 
fending guest as your Highness has this day beheld me 
used; and whatever was the misfortune of our fathers 
on the field of Hastings, those may at least be silent 


TO GET ME A WIFE 


123 


(here he looked at Front-de-Boeuf and the Templar) 
who have within these few hours once and again lost 
saddle and stirrup before the lance of a Saxon.” 

‘‘By my faith, a biting jest!” said Prince John. 
“ How like you it, sirs? — Our Saxon subjects rise in 
spirit and courage, become shrewd in wit and bold in 
bearing, in these unsettled times. — What say ye, my 
lords? By this good light, I hold it best to take our 
galleys and return to Normandy in time.” 

“ For fear of the Saxons? ” said De Bracy, laughing. 
“ We should need no weapon but our hunting spears to 
bring these boars to bay.” 

“ A truce with your raillery. Sir Knights,” said Fitz- 
urse; “and it were well,” he added, addressing the 
Prince, “ that your Highness should assure the worthy 
Cedric there is no insult intended him by jests which 
must sound but harshly in the ear of a stranger. ’ ’ 

“ Insult! ” answered Prince John, resuming his cour- 
tesy of demeanor; “ I trust it will not be thought that 
I could mean or permit any to be offered in my presence. 
Here ! I fill my cup to Cedric himself, since he refuses 
to pledge his son^s health.” 

The cup went round amid the well-dissembled applause 
of the courtiers, which, however, failed to make the 
impression on the mind of the Saxon that had been de- 
signed. He was silent when the royal pledge again 
passed round, “ To Sir Athelstane of Coningsburgh. ” 

The knight made his obeisance, and showed his sense 
of the honor by draining a huge goblet in answer to it. 

“ And now, sirs,” said Prince John, who began to be 
warmed with the wine which he had drank, “ having 
done justice to our Saxon guests, we will pray of them 
some requital to our courtesy. Worthy thane,” he con- 
tinued, addressing Cedric, “ may we pray you to name 


124 


IVANHOE 


to US some Norman whose mention may least sully your 
mouth, and to wash down with a goblet of wine all bit- 
terness which the sound may leave behind it ? ” 

Fitzurse arose while Prince John spoke, and, gliding 
behind the seat of the Saxon, whispered to him not to 
omit the opportunity of putting an end to unkindness 
betwixt the two races by naming Prince John. The 
Saxon replied not to this politic insinuation, but, rising 
up, and filling his cup to the brim, he addressed Prince 
John in these words: Your Highness has required 

that I should name a Norman deserving to be remem- 
bered at our banquet. This, perchance, is a hard task, 
since it calls on the slave to sing the praises of the mas- 
ter — upon the vanquished, while pressed by all the evils 
of conquest, to sing the praises of the conqueror. Yet I 
will name a Norman — the first in arms and in place — 
the best and the noblest of his race. And the lips that 
shall refuse to pledge me to his well-earned fame, I term 
false and dishonored, and will so maintain them with 
my life. — I quaff this goblet to the health of Richard 
the Lion-hearted! ’’ 

Prince John, who had expected that his own name 
would close the Saxon’s speech, started when that 
of his injured brother was so unexpectedly introduced. 
He raised mechanically the wine-cup to his lips, then 
instantly set it down, to view the demeanor of the com- 
pany at this unexpected proposal, which many of them 
felt it as unsafe to oppose as to comply with. Some of 
them, ancient and experienced courtiers, closely imitated 
the example of the Prince himself, raising the goblet to 
their lips, and again replacing it before them. There 
were many who, with a more generous feeling, exclaimed, 
‘ ‘ Long live King Richard 1 and may he be speedily re- 
stored to us! ” And some few, among whom were 


TO GET ME A WIFE ” 


125 


Front-de-Bcjeuf and the Templar, in sullen disdain suf- 
fered their goblets to stand untasted before them. But 
no man ventured directly to gainsay a i^ledge filled to 
the health of the reigning monarch. 

Having enjoyed his triumph for about a minute, Ced- 
ric said to his companion, Up, noble Athelstane! we 
have remained here long enough, since we have requited 
the hospitable courtesy of Prince John’s banquet. Those 
who wish to know further of our rude Saxon manners 
must henceforth seek us in the homes of our fathers, 
since we have seen enough of royal banquets and enough 
of Norman courtesy. ’ ’ 

So saying, he arose and left the banqueting-room, fol- 
lowed by Athelstane, and by several other guests, who, 
partaking of the Saxon lineage, held themselves insulted 
by the sarcasms of Prince John and his courtiers. 

By the bones of St. Thomas,” said Prince John, as 
they retreated, ‘ ‘ the Saxon churls have borne off the 
best of the day, and have retreated with triumph ! ’ ’ 

We have drunk and we have shouted,” said Prior 
Aymer ; ^ ^ it were time we left our wine flagons. I must 
m^ve several miles forward this evening upon my home- 
ward journey.” 

‘‘ They are breaking up,” said the Prince in a whisper 
to Pitzurse; their fears anticipate the event, and this 
coward Prior is the first to shrink from me.” 

Pear not, my lord,” said Waldemar; I will show 
him such reasons as shall induce him to join us when we 
hold our meeting at York. — Sir Prior,” he said, I 
must speak with you in private before you mount your 
palfrey.” 

No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered 
meshes of his web than did Waldemar Pitzurse to re- 
unite and combine the scattered members of Prince 


126 


IVANHOE 


John’s cabal. To the young and wild nobles he held 
out the prospect of unpunished license and uncontroled 
revelry, to the ambitious that of power, and to the 
covetous that of increased wealth and extended domains. 

If Richard returns,” said Fitzurse, ‘‘ he returns to 
enrich his needy and impoverished crusaders at the ex- 
pense of those who did not follow him to the Holy Land. 
Are ye afraid of his power? We acknowledge him a 
strong and valiant knight ; but these are not the days of 
King Arthur, when a champion could encounter an 
army. If Richard indeed comes back, it must be alone, 
unfollowed, unfriended. The bones of his gallant army 
have whitened the sands of Palestine. The few of his 
followers who have returned have straggled hither like 
this Wilfred of Ivanhoe, beggared and broken men.” 

These and many more arguments had the expected 
weight with the nobles of Prince John’s faction. Most 
of them consented to attend the proposed meeting at 
York, for the purpose of making general arrange- 
ments for placing the crown upon the head of Prince 
John. 

It was late at night when, worn out and exhausted with 
his various exertions, however gratified with the result, 
Fitzurse, returning to the Castle of Ashby, met De 
Bracy, who had exchanged his banqueting garments for 
a short green kirtle, with hose of the same cloth and 
color, a leathern cap or headpiece, a short sword, a horn 
slung over his shoulder, a long-bow in his hand, and a 
bundle of arrows stuck in his belt. Had Fitzurse met 
this figure in an outer apartment, he would have passed 
him without notice, as one of the yeomen of the guard; 
but finding him in the inner hall, he looked at him with 
more attention, and recognized the Norman knight in 
the dress of an English yeoman. 


TO GET ME A WIFE 


127 


What mummery is this, De Bracy? ’’ said Fitzurse, 
somewhat angrily; ‘‘ is this a time for Christmas gam- 
bols and quaint maskings, when the fate of our master, 
Prince John, is on the very verge of decision? What 
on earth dost thou purpose by this absurd disguise at a 
moment so urgent ? ’ ’ 

To get me a wife,’’ answered De Bracy, coolly, 

after the manner of the tribe of Benjamin. Which is 
as much as to say, that in this same equipment I will fall 
upon that herd of Saxon bullocks who have this night 
left the castle, and carry off from them the lovely 
Kowena. Seem I not in this garb as bold a forester as 
ever blew horn? The blame of the violence shall rest 
with the outlaws of the Yorkshire forests. I have sure 
spies on the Saxons’ motions. To-night they sleep in 
the convent of St. Wittol, or Withold, at Burton-on- 
Trent. Next day’s march brings them within our reach, 
and, falcon-ways, we swoop on them at once. Presently 
after I will appear in mine own shape, play the courteous 
knight, rescue the unfortunate and afflicted fair one from 
the hands of the rude ravishers, conduct her to Pront- 
de-Boeuf ’s castle, or to Normandy, if it should be neces- 
sary, and produce her not again to her kindred until she 
be the bride and dame of Maurice de Bracy. It will be 
the work of a few hours, and I shall be at York at the 
head of my daring and valorous fellows, as ready to 
support any bold design as thy policy can be to form 
one. But I hear my comrades assembling, and the 
steeds stamping and neighing in the outer court. — 
Farewell. — I go, like a true knight, to win the smiles 
of beauty. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Like a true knight! ” repeated Fitzurse, looking 
after him ; ‘ ‘ like a fool, I should say, or like a child, who 
will leave the most serious and needful occupation to 


128 


IVANHOE 


chase the down of the thistle that drives past him. — 
But it is with such tools that I must work — and for 
whose advantage ? — For that of a Prince as likely to 
be an ungrateful master as he has already proved a 
rebellious son and an unnatural brother/’ 


CHAPTER XV 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 

The reader cannot have forgotten that the event of 
the tournament was decided by the exertions of an un- 
known knight, whom the spectators had entitled the 
Black Sluggard. This knight had left the field abruptly 
when the victory was achieved; and when he was called 
upon to receive the reward of his valor he was holding 
his course northward, avoiding all frequented paths, 
and taking the shortest road through the woodlands. He 
paused for the night at a small hostelry lying out of 
the ordinary route, where, however, he obtained from a 
wandering minstrel news of the event of the tourney. 

On the next morning the knight departed early, with 
the intention of making a long journey. His purpose 
was baffled by the devious paths through which he rode, 
so that when evening closed upon him he found himself 
deeply involved in woods, through which indeed there 
were many open glades and some paths, but such as 
seemed formed only by the numerous herds of cattle 
which grazed in the forest, or by the animals of chase 
and the hunters who made prey of them. 

The sun had now sunk behind the Derbyshire hills. 
After having in vain endeavored to select the most beaten 
path, the knight resolved to trust to the sagacity of his 
horse. The good steed, grievously fatigued with so long 
a day’s journey under a rider cased in mail, had no 
sooner found, by the slackened reins, that he was aban- 
129 


130 


IVANHOE 


cloned to his own guidance, than he assumed, of his own 
accord, a more lively motion. The path which the ani- 
mal adopted rather turned off from the course pursued 
by the knight during the day; but the footpath soon 
after appeared a little wider and more worn, and the 
tinkle of a small bell gave the knight to understand that 
he was in the vicinity of some chapel or hermitage. 

Accordingly, he soon reached an open plat of turf, on 
the opposite side of which a rock offered its gray and 
weatherbeaten front to the traveler. At the bottom of 
the rock, and leaning, as it were, against it, was con- 
structed a rude hut, built chiefly of the trunks of trees 
felled in the neighboring forest, and secured against the 
weather by having its crevices stuffed with moss mingled 
with clay. The stem of a young flr-tree lopped of its 
branches, with a piece of wood tied across near the top, 
was planted upright by the door, as a rude emblem of 
the holy cross. At a little distance on the right hand, 
a fountain of the purest water trickled out of the rock, 
and was received in a hollow stone, which labor had 
formed into a rustic basin. Beside this fountain were 
the ruins of a very small chapel, of which the roof had 
partly fallen in. 

The whole peaceful and quiet scene lay glimmering in 
twilight before the eyes of the traveler, giving him good 
assurance of lodging for the night ; since it was a special 
duty of those hermits who dwelt in the woods to exercise 
hospitality towards benighted or bewildered passengers. 

Accordingly, the knight leaped from his horse and 
assailed the door of the hermitage with the butt of his 
lance, in order to arouse attention and gain admittance. 

It was some time before he obtained any answer, and 
the reply, when made, was unpropitious. 

‘ ‘ Pass on, whosoever thou art, ^ ’ was the answer given 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


131 


by a deep, hoarse voice from within the hut, ‘‘ and dis- 
turb not the servant of God and St. Dunstan in his 
evening devotions.’’ 

Worthy father,” answered the knight, here is a 
poor wanderer bewildered in these woods, who gives 
thee the opportunity of exercising thy charity and hos- 
pitality.” 

Good brother,” replied the inhabitant of the her- 
mitage, it has pleased Our Lady and St. Dunstan to 
destine me for the object of those virtues, instead of the 
exercise thereof. I have no provisions here which even 
a dog would share with me, and a horse of any tender- 
ness of nurture would despise my couch; pass therefore 
on thy way, and God speed thee. ’ ’ 

But how,” replied the knight, “is it possible for 
me to find my way through such a wood as this, when 
darkness is coming on ? I pray you, reverend father, as 
you are a Christian, to undo your door, and at least 
point out to me my road. ’ ’ 

“ And I pray you, good Christian brother,” replied 
the anchorite, “ to disturb me no more. You have al- 
ready interrupted one Pater, two Aves, and a Credo, 
which I, miserable sinner that I am, should, according to 
my vow, have said before moonrise.” 

“ The road — the road! ” vociferated the knight; 
“ give me directions for the road, if I am to expect no 
more from thee.” 

“ The road,” replied the hermit, “ is easy to hit. The 
path from the wood leads to a morass, and from thence 
to a ford, which, as the rains have abated, may now be 
passable. When thou hast crossed the ford, thou wilt 
take care of thy footing up the left bank, as it is some- 
what precipitous, and the path, which hangs over the 
river, has lately, as I learn — for I seldom leave the 


132 


IVANHOE 


duties of my chapel — given way in sundry places. 
Thou wilt then keep straight forward — ” 

A broken path — a precipice — a ford — and a mo- 
rass! said the knight, interrupting him. ‘‘ Sir Her- 
mit, if you were the holiest that ever wore beard or told 
bead, you shall scarce prevail on me to hold this road 
to-night. Either open the door quickly, or, by the rood, 
I will beat it down and make entry for myself.’’ 

Friend wayfarer,” replied the hermit, ‘‘ be not im- 
portunate; if thou puttest me to use the carnal weapon 
in mine own defense, it will be e’en the worse for you.” 

At this moment a distant noise of barking and growl- 
ing, which the traveler had for some time heard, became 
extremely loud and furious, and made the knight sup- 
pose that the hermit, alarmed by the threat of making 
forcible entry, had called the dogs out of some inner 
recess in which they had been kenneled. Incensed at 
this preparation on the hermit’s part for making good 
his inhospitable purpose, the knight struck the door so 
furiously with his foot that posts as well as staples shook 
with violence. 

The anchorite, not caring again to expose his door to a 
similar shock, now called out aloud; Patience, pa- 
tience — spare thy strength, good traveler, and I will 
presently undo the door, though, it may be, my doing so 
will be little to thy pleasure.” 

The door accordingly was opened; and the hermit, a 
large, strong-built man, in his sackcloth gown and hood, 
girt with a rope of rushes, stood before the knight. He 
had in one hand a lighted torch, or link, and in the other 
a baton of crab tree, so thick and heavy that it might 
well be termed a club. Two large, shaggy dogs, half 
greyhound, half mastiff, stood ready to rush upon the 
traveler. But when the torch glanced upon the lofty 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


133 


crest and golden spurs of the knight who stood without, 
the hermit, altering probably his original intentions, re- 
pressed the rage of his auxiliaries, and, changing his 
tone to a sort of churlish courtesy, invited the knight to 
enter his hut, making excuse for his unwillingness to 
open his lodge after sunset by alleging the multitude of 
robbers and outlaws who were abroad. 

The poverty of your cell, good father,’’ said the 
knight, looking around him, and seeing nothing but a 
bed of leaves, a crucifix rudely carved in oak, a missal, 
with a rough-hewn table and two stools, and one or two 
clumsy articles of furniture — ‘ ‘ the poverty of your cell 
should seem a sulBcient defense against any risk of 
thieves, not to mention the aid of two trusty dogs, large 
and strong enough, I think, to pull down a stag, and, of 
course, to match with most men.” 

The good keeper of the forest,” said the hermit, 
‘‘ hath allowed me the use of these animals to protect 
my solitude until the times shall mend.” 

Having said this, he fixed his torch in a twisted 
branch of iron which served for a candlestick ; and plac- 
ing the oaken trivet before the embers of the fire, which 
he refreshed with some dry wood, he placed a stool upon 
one side of the table, and beckoned to the knight to do 
the same upon the other. 

They sat down, and gazed with great gravity at each 
other, each thinking in his heart that he had seldom 
seen a stronger or more athletic figure than was placed 
opposite to him. 

‘‘ Reverend hermit,” said the knight, after looking 
long and fixedly at his host, were it not to interrupt 
your devout meditations, I would pray to know three 
things of your holiness; first, where I am to put my 
horse? — secondly, what I can have for supper? — 
10 


134 


IVANHOE 


thirdly, where I am to take up my couch for the 
night? 

I will reply to you,’’ said the hermit, ‘‘ with my 
finger, it being against my rule to speak by words where 
signs can answer the purpose.” So saying, he pointed 
successively to two corners of the hut. ‘‘ Your stable,” 
said he, ‘ ‘ is there ; your bed there ; and, ’ ’ reaching down 
a platter with two handfuls of parched pease upon it 
from the neighboring shelf, and placing it upon the table, 
‘‘ your supper is here.” 

The knight shrugged his shoulders, and, leaving the 
hut, brought in his horse, which in the interim he had 
fastened to a tree, unsaddled him with much attention, 
and spread upon the steed’s weary back his own mantle. 

The hermit was apparently somewhat moved to com- 
passion by the anxiety as well as address which the 
stranger displayed in tending his horse; for, muttering 
something about provender left for the keeper’s palfrey, 
he dragged out of a recess a bundle of forage, which he 
spread before the knight’s charger, and immediately 
afterwards shook down a quantity of dried fern in the 
corner which he had assigned for the rider’s couch. The 
knight returned him thanks for his courtesy; and both 
resumed their seats by the table, whereon stood the 
trencher of pease placed between them. The hermit, 
after a long grace, set example to his guest by modestly 
putting into a very large mouth, furnished with teeth 
which might have ranked with those of a boar, some 
three or four dried pease, a miserable grist, as it seemed, 
for so large and able a mill. 

The knight, in order to follow so laudable an example, 
laid aside his helmet, his corselet, and the greater part 
of his armor, and showed to the hermit a head thick- 
curled with yellow hair, high features, blue eyes, re- 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


135 


markably bright and sparkling, a mouth well-formed, 
having an upper lip clothed with mustachioes darker 
than his hair, and bearing altogether the look of a bold, 
daring, and enterprising man, with which his strong 
form well corresponded. 

The hermit, as if wishing to answer to the confidence 
of his guest, threw back his cowl, and showed a round 
bullet-head belonging to a man in the prime of life. It 
was a bold, bluff countenance, with broad, black eyebrows, 
a well-turned forehead, and cheeks as round and ver- 
milion as those of a trumpeter. Such a visage, joined 
to the brawny form of the holy man, spoke rather of 
sirloins and haunches than of pease and pulse. This in- 
congruity did not escape the guest. After he had with 
great difficulty accomplished the mastication of a mouth- 
ful of the dried pease, he found it absolutely necessary 
to request his pious entertainer to furnish him with 
some liquor; who replied to his request by placing 
before him a large can of the purest water from the 
fountain. 

It is from the well of St. Dunstan,” said he, ‘‘ in 
which, betwixt sun and sun, he baptized five himdred 
heathen Danes and Britons — blessed be his name! 
And, applying his black beard to the pitcher, he took a 
draught much more moderate in quantity than his en- 
comium seemed to warrant. 

It seems to me, reverend father,’’ said the knight, 
that the small morsels which you eat, together with 
this holy but somewhat thin beverage, have thriven with 
you marvelously.” 

Sir Knight,” answered the hermit, your thoughts, 
like those of the ignorant laity, are according to the 
flesh. It has pleased Our Lady and my patron saint to 
bless the pittance to which I restrain myself, even as 


136 


IVANHOE 


the pulse and water was blessed to the children Shad- 
rach, Meshech, and Abednego.” 

“ Holy father,” said the knight, upon whose counte- 
nance it hath pleased Heaven to work such a miracle, 
permit a sinful layman to crave thy name? ” 

“ Thou mayst call me,” answ^ered the hermit, the 
Clerk of Copmanhurst, for so I am termed in these parts. 
— They add, it is true, the epithet holy, but I stand not 
upon that, as being unworthy of such addition. — And 
now, valiant knight, may I pray ye for the name of my 
honorable guest? ” 

Truly,” said the knight, ‘‘ Holy Clerk of Copman- 
hurst, men call me in these parts the Black Knight, — 
many, sir, add to it the epithet of Sluggard, whereby I 
am no way ambitious to be distinguished. ^ ’ 

The hermit could scarcely forbear from smiling at his 
guest’s reply. 

I see,” said he, ‘‘ Sir Sluggish Knight, that thou art 
a man of prudence and of counsel ; and, moreover, I see 
that my poor monastic fare likes thee not, accustomed, 
perhaps, as thou hast been, to the license of courts and of 
camps, and the luxuries of cities ; and now I bethink me. 
Sir Sluggard, that when the charitable keeper of this 
forest-walk left these dogs for my protection, and also 
those bundles of forage, he left me also some food, which, 
being unfit for my use, the very recollection of it had 
escaped me amid my more weighty meditations.” 

‘ ‘ I dare be sworn he did so, ’ ’ said the knight ; ‘ ‘ I was 
convinced that there was better food in the cell, Holy 
Clerk, since you first doffed your cowl. — Your keeper is 
ever a jovial fellow: and none who beheld thy grinders 
contending with these pease, and thy throat flooded with 
this ungenial element, could see thee doomed to such 
horse-provendei^ and horse-beverage (pointing to the 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


137 


provisions upon the table), and refrain from mending 
thy cheer. Let us see the keeper’s bounty, therefore, 
without delay. ’ ’ 

The hermit cast a wistful look upon the knight, in 
which there was a sort of comic expression of hesitation, 
as if uncertain how far he should act prudently in trust- 
ing his guest. There was, however, as much of bold 
frankness in the knight’s countenance as was possible 
to be expressed by features. His smile, too, gave an 
assurance of faith and loyalty, with which his host could 
not refrain from sympathizing. 

After exchanging a mute glance or two, the hermit 
went to the further side of the hut, and opened a hutch, 
which was concealed with great care and some ingenuity. 
Out of the recesses of a dark closet he brought a large 
pasty, baked in a pewter platter of unusual dimensions. 
This mighty dish he placed before his guest, who, using 
his poniard to cut it open, lost no time in making him- 
self acquainted with its contents. 

How long is it since the good keeper has been here ? ” 
said the knight to his host, after having swallowed sev- 
eral hasty morsels of this reinforcement to the hermit’s 
good cheer. 

About two months,’’ answered the father, hastily. 

‘‘ Everything in your hermitage is miraculous. Holy 
Clerk! ” answered the knight; ‘‘ for I would have been 
sworn that the fat buck which furnished this venison 
had been running on foot within the week.” 

The hermit was somewhat discountenanced by this 
observation; and, moreover, he made but a poor figure 
while gazing on the diminution of the pasty, on which 
his guest was making desperate inroads — a warfare in 
which his previous profession of abstinence left him no 
pretext for joining. 


138 


IVANHOE 


I have been in Palestine, Sir Clerk,’’ said the knight, 
stopping short of a sudden, and I bethink me it is a 
custom there that every host who entertains a guest shall 
assure him of the wholesomeness of his food by partak- 
ing of it along with him. Par be it from me to suspect 
so holy a man of aught inhospitable ; nevertheless, I will 
be highly bound to you would you comply with this 
Eastern custom.” 

‘‘ To ease your unnecessary scruples. Sir Knight, I 
will for once depart from my rule,” replied the hermit. 
And as there were no forks in those days, his clutches 
were instantly in the bowels of the pasty. 

The ice of ceremony being once broken, it seemed 
matter of rivalry between the guest and the entertainer 
which should display the best appetite ; and although the 
former had probably fasted longest, yet the hermit fairly 
surpassed him. 

‘‘ Holy Clerk,” said the knight, when his hunger was 
appeased, ‘ ‘ I would gauge my good horse yonder against 
a zecchin, that that same honest keeper to whom we are 
obliged for the venison has left thee a stoup of wine, or 
a runlet of canary, or some such trifle, by way of ally to 
this noble pasty. This would be a circumstance, doubt- 
less, totally unworthy to dwell in the memory of so rigid 
an anchorite; yet, I think, were you to search yonder 
crypt once more, you would And that I am right in my 
conjecture.” 

The hermit only replied by a grin; and, returning to 
the hutch, he produced a leathern bottle, which might 
contain about four quarts, and two large drinking cups, 
made of horn and hooped with silver. Having made 
this goodly provision for washing down the supper, he 
seemed to think no farther ceremonious scruple neces- 
sary on his part; but. Ailing both cups, and saying, in 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


139 


the Saxon fashion, Wassail! Sir Sluggish Knight! ’’ he 
emptied his own at a draught. 

‘ ‘ Drink hail ! Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst ! ’ ^ an- 
swered the warrior, and did his host reason in a similar 
brimmer. 

Holy Clerk,” said the stranger, after the first cup 
was thus swallowed, I cannot but marvel that a man 
possessed of such thews and sinews as thine, and who 
therewithal shows the talent of so goodly a trencherman, 
should think of abiding by himself in this wilderness. 
In my judgment you are fitter to keep a castle or a fort, 
eating of the fat and drinking of the strong, than to live 
here upon pulse and water, or even upon the charity of 
the keeper. At least, were I as thou, I should find my- 
self both disport and plenty out of the king’s deer. 
There is many a goodly herd in these forests, and a buck 
will never be missed that goes to the use of St. Dunstan ’s 
chaplain.” 

‘ ‘ Sir Sluggish Knight, ’ ’ replied the Clerk, ‘ ‘ these are 
dangerous words, and I pray you to forbear them. I am 
true hermit to the king and law, and were I to spoil my 
liege’s game, I should be sure of the prison, and, an my 
gown saved me not, were in some peril of hanging. ’ ’ 

Nevertheless, were I as thou,” said the knight, ‘‘ I 
would take my walk by moonlight, when foresters and 
keepers were warm in bed, and ever and anon — as I 
pattered my prayers — I would let fly a shaft among 
the herds of dun deer that feed in the glades. — Re- 
solve me. Holy Clerk, hast thou never practiced such a 
pastime? ” 

Friend Sluggard,” answered the hermit, thou 
hast seen all that can concern thee of my housekeeping, 
and something more than he deserves who takes up his 
quarters by violence. Credit me, it is better to enjoy 


140 


IVANHOE 


the good which God sends thee, than to be impertinently 
curious how it comes. Fill thy cup, and welcome; and 
do not, I pray thee, by further impertinent inquiries, 
put me to show that thou couldst hardly have made good 
thy lodging had I been earnest to oppose thee. ’ ’ 

By my faith,’’ said the knight, “ thou makest me 
more curious than ever! Thou art the most mysterious 
hermit I ever met ; and I will know more of thee ere we 
part. As for thy threats, know, holy man, thou speakest 
to one whose trade it is to find out danger wherever it is 
to be met with.” 

‘‘ Sir Sluggish Knight, I drink to thee,” said the her- 
mit, ‘‘ respecting thy valor much, but deeming wondrous 
slightly of thy discretion. If thou wilt take equal arms 
with me, I will give thee, in all friendship and brotherly 
love, such sufficing penance and complete absolution that 
thou shalt not for the next twelve months sin the sin of 
excess of curiosity.” 

The knight pledged him, and desired him to name his 
weapons. 

There is none,” replied the hermit, from the scis- 
sors of Delilah and the tenpenny nail of Jael, to the 
scimitar of Goliath, at which I am not a match for thee. 
But, if I am to make the election, what sayest thou, good 
friend, to these trinkets? ” 

Thus speaking, he opened another hutch, and took out 
from it a couple of broadswords and bucklers, such as 
were used by the yeomanry of the period. The knight, 
who watched his motions, observed that this second place 
of concealment was furnished with two or three good 
long-bows, a cross-bow, a bundle of bolts for the latter, 
and half a dozen sheaves of arrows for the former. A 
harp, and other matters of a very uncanonical appear- 
ance, were also visible when this dark recess was opened- 


A MIRACULOUS HERMITAGE 


141 


I promise thee, brother Clerk,” said he, I will ask 
thee no more offensive questions. The contents of that 
cupboard are an answer to all my inquiries ; and I see a 
weapon there (here he stooped and took out the harp) on 
which I would more gladly prove my skill with thee than 
at the sword and buckler.” 

I hope. Sir Knight,” said the hermit, ‘‘ thou hast 
given no good reason for thy surname of the Sluggard. 
I do promise thee, I suspect thee grievously. Neverthe- 
less, thou art my guest, and I will not put thy manhood 
to the proof without thine own free will. Sit thee down, 
then, and fill thy cup ; let us drink, sing, and be merry. 
If thou knowest ever a good lay, thou shalt be welcome 
to a nook of pasty at Copmanhurst so long as I serve the 
chapel of St. Dunstan, which, please God, shall be till I 
change my gray covering for one of green turf. But 
come, fill a fiagon, for it will crave some time to tune 
the harp ; and nought pitches the voice and sharpens the 
ear like a cup of wine. For my part, I love to feel the 
grape at my very finger-ends before they make the harp- 
strings tinkle.” 

Notwithstanding the prescription of the genial her- 
mit, with which his guest willingly complied, he found 
it no easy matter to bring the harp to harmony. 

Methinks, holy father,” said he, ‘‘ the instrument 
wants one string, and the rest have been somewhat mis- 
used.” 

‘‘ Aye, mark’st thou that? ” replied the hermit; ‘‘ that 
shows thee a master of the craft. Wine and wassail,” 
he added, gravely casting up his eyes — ‘‘ all the fault of 
wine and wassail! I told Allan-a-Dale, the northern 
minstrel, that he would damage the harp if he touched 
it after the seventh cup, but he would not be controlled. ' ’ 

The knight brought the strings into some order, and. 


142 


IVANHOE 


after a short prelude, asked his host whether he would 
choose a sirvente in the language of oc, or a lai in the 
language of oui, or a ballad in the vulgar English. 

‘ ‘ A ballad — a ballad, ’ ’ said the hermit, ‘ ‘ against all 
the ocs and ouis of France. Downright English am I, 
Sir Knight, and downright English was my patron St. 
Dunstan ; downright English alone shall be sung in this 
cell.” 

I will assay, then,” said the knight, a ballad com- 
posed by a Saxon gleeman, whom I knew in Holy Land. ’ ’ 
It speedily appeared that, if the knight was not a com- 
plete master of the minstrel art, his taste for it had at 
least been cultivated under the best instructors. When 
the song was ended, the anchorite emphatically declared 
it a good one, and well sung. 

‘ ‘ And yet, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ I think my Saxon countryman 
had herded long enough with the Normans to fall into 
the tone of their melancholy ditties. Nevertheless, Sir 
Knight, I drink this cup to thee, to the success of all 
true lovers. — I fear you are none, ’ ’ he added, on observ- 
ing that the knight, whose brain began to be heated with 
these repeated draughts, qualified his flagon from the 
water pitcher. 

‘ ‘ Why, ’ ’ said the knight, ‘ ‘ did you not tell me that this 
water was from the well of your patron St. Dunstan ? ’ ’ 
‘ ‘ Aye, truly, ’ ’ said the hermit, ^ ^ and many a hundred 
pagans did he baptize there, but I never heard that he 
drank any of it. Everything should be put to its proper 
use in this world. St. Dunstan knew, as well as any one, 
the prerogatives of a jovial friar.” 

He changed the conversation; fast and furious grew 
the mirth of the parties, and many a song was exchanged 
betwixt them, when their revels were interrupted by a 
loud knocking at the door of the hermitage. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A WHITE dragon! ’’ 

When Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop down sense- 
less in the lists at Ashby, his first impulse was to order 
him into the custody and care of his own attendants; 
but he could not bring himself to acknowledge, in pres- 
ence of such an assembly, the son whom he had re- 
nounced and disinherited. He ordered, however, Os- 
wald to convey Ivanhoe to Ashby as soon as the crowd 
had dispersed. Oswald, however, was anticipated in 
this good office. The crowd dispersed, indeed, but the 
knight was nowhere to be seen. 

Oswald suddenly cast his eye upon a person attired 
like a squire, in whom he recognized the features of his 
fellow-servant Gurth. Anxious concerning his master’s 
fate, and in despair at his sudden disappearance, the 
translated swineherd was searching for him everywhere, 
and had neglected, in doing so, the concealment on which 
his own safety depended. Oswald deemed it his duty to 
secure Gurth, as a fugitive of whose fate his master was 
to judge. 

Renewing his inquiries concerning the fate of Ivan- 
hoe, the only information which the cupbearer could 
collect was, that the knight had been raised with care by 
certain well-attired grooms, and placed in a litter be- 
longing to a lady among the spectators, which had imme- 
diately transported him out of the press. Cedric was 
informed that Ivanhoe was in careful, and probably 
143 


144 


IVANHOE 


friendly hands. Let him wander his way,” said he; 
“ let those leech his wounds for whose sake he encoun- 
tered them. He is fitter to do the juggling tricks 
of the Norman chivalry than to maintain the fame and 
honor of his English ancestry with the glaive and 
brown-bill, the good old weapons of his country.” 

If to maintain the honor of ancestry,” said Rowena, 
who was present, it is sufficient to be wise in council 
and brave in execution, to be boldest among the bold, 
and gentlest among the gentle, I know no voice, save 
his father’s — ” 

Be silent, Lady Rowena! on this subject only I hear 
you not. Prepare yourself for the Prince’s festival. 
Thither will I go, were it only to show these proud Nor- 
mans how little the fate of a son who could defeat their 
bravest can affect a Saxon.” 

‘‘ Thither,” said Rowena, ‘‘ do I not go; and I pray 
you to beware, lest what you mean for courage and con- 
stancy shall be accounted hardness of heart.” 

‘‘ Remain at home then, ungrateful lady,” answered 
Cedric ; ‘ ‘ thine is the hard heart, which can sacrifice the 
weal of an oppressed people to an idle and unauthorized 
attachment. I seek the noble Athelstane, and with him 
attend the banquet of John of Anjou.” 

He went accordingly to the banquet, of which we have 
already mentioned the principal events. Immediately 
upon retiring from the castle, the Saxon thanes, with 
their attendants, took horse ; and it was during the bus- 
tle which attended their doing so that Cedric for the 
first time cast his eyes upon the deserter Gurth. The 
noble Saxon had returned from the banquet, as we have 
seen, in no very placid humor, and wanted but a pretext 
for wreaking his anger upon some one. The gyves! ” 
ho said — ‘ ‘ the gyves ! Oswald — Hundebert ! Dogs 


A WHITE DRAGON! 


145 


and villains! why leave ye the knave unfettered? 

Without daring to remonstrate, the companions of 
Gurth bound him with a halter. He submitted to the 
operation without remonstrance, except that, darting a 
reproachful look at his master, he said, This 
comes of loving your flesh and blood better than mine 
own.’’ 

To horse, and forward! ” said Cedric. 

It is indeed full time,” said the noble Athelstane; 

for if we ride not the faster, the worthy Abbot Wal- 
theoffi’s preparations for a rere-supper will be alto- 
gether spoiled.” 

The travelers, however, used such speed as to reach 
the convent of St. Withold before the apprehended evil 
took place. The Abbot, himself of ancient Saxon de- 
scent, received the noble Saxons with the profuse and 
exuberant hospitality of their nation, wherein they in- 
dulged to a late, or rather an early, hour; nor did they 
take leave of their reverend host the next morning until 
they had shared with him a sumptuous refection. 

As the cavalcade left the court of the monastery, a 
large, lean, black dog, sitting upright, howled most pit- 
eously as the foremost riders left the gate, and presently 
afterwards, barking wildly, and jumping to and fro, 
seemed bent upon attaching itself to the party. 

I like not that music, father Cedric,” said Athel- 
stane ; ‘ ‘ in my mind we had better turn back and abide 
with the Abbot until the afternoon. It is unlucky to 
travel where your path is crossed by a monk, a hare, or a 
howling dog, until you have eaten your next meal.” 

Away! ” said Cedric, impatiently; the day is al- 
ready too short for our journey. For the dog, I know it 
to be the cur of the runaway slave Gurth, a useless fugi- 
tive like its master. ’ ’ 


146 


IVANHOE 


So saying, and rising at the same time in his stirrups, 
impatient at the interruption of his journey, he launched 
his javelin at poor Fangs ; for Fangs it was, who, having 
traced his master thus far upon his stolen expedition, 
had here lost him, and was now, in his uncouth way, 
rejoicing at his reappearance. The javelin inflicted a 
wound upon the animal’s shoulder, and narrowly missed 
pinning him to the earth ; and Fangs fled howling from 
the presence of the enraged thane. 

Meanwhile Cedric and Athelstane, the leaders of the 
troop, conversed together on the state of the land, and 
on the chance which there was that the oppressed Saxons 
might be able to free themselves from the yoke of the 
Normans. On this subject Cedric was all animation. 
The restoration of the independence of his race was the 
idol of his heart, to which he had willingly sacrificed 
domestic happiness and the interests of his own son. He 
was now bent upon making a determined effort for the 
union of Athelstane and Eowena, together with expedi- 
ting those other measures which seemed necessary to for- 
ward the restoration of Saxon independence. 

At noon, upon the motion of Athelstane, the travelers 
paused in a woodland shade by a fountain, to repose their 
horses and partake of some provisions, with which the 
hospitable Abbot had loaded a sumpter mule. Their re- 
past was a pretty long one; and these several interrup- 
tions rendered it impossible for them to hope to reach 
Rotherwood without traveling all night, a conviction 
which induced them to proceed on their way at a more 
hasty pace than they had hitherto used. 

The travelers had now reached the verge of the wooded 
country, and were about to plunge into its recesses, held 
dangerous at that time from the number of outlaws whom 
oppression and poverty had driven to despair and who 


A WHITE DRAGON! 


147 


occupied the forest in large bands. From these rovers, 
however, Cedric and Athelstane accounted themselves 
secure. The outlaws were chiefly peasants and yeomen 
of Saxon descent, and were generally supposed to respect 
the persons and property of their countrymen. 

As the travelers journeyed on their way, they were 
alarmed by repeated cries for assistance ; and when they 
rode up to the place from whence they came, they were 
surprised to And a horse-litter placed upon the ground, 
beside which sat a young woman, richly dressed in the 
Jewish fashion, while an old man, whose yellow cap pro- 
claimed him to belong to the same nation, walked up 
and down with gestures expressive of the deepest de- 
spair. 

To the inquiries of Athelstane and Cedric, Isaac of 
York (for it was our old friend) was at length able to 
explain that he had hired a body-guard of six men at 
Ashby, together with mules for carrying the litter of a 
sick friend. They had come thus far in safety; but, 
having received information from a wood-cutter that 
there was a strong band of outlaws lying in wait in the 
woods before them, Isaac’s mercenaries had not only 
taken flight, but had taken off with them the 
horses which bore the litter, and had left the Jew 
and his daughter without the means either of de- 
fense or of retreat. Would it but please your valors,” 
added Isaac, in a tone of deep humility, to permit 
the poor Jews to travel under your safeguard, I 
swear by the tables of our Law that never has favor 
been conferred upon a child of Israel since the days of 
our captivity which shall be more gratefully acknowl- 
edged.” 

Dog of a Jew! ” said Athelstane, whose memory was 
of that petty kind which stores up trifles of all kinds, but 


148 


IVANHOE 


particularly trifling offenses, dost not remember how 
thou didst beard us in the gallery at the tilt-yard? 
Fight or flee, or compound with the outlaws as thou dost 
list, ask neither aid nor company from us/’ 

We shall do better,” said Cedric, to leave them 
two of our attendants and two horses to convey them 
back to the next village.” 

Eowena strongly seconded the proposal of her guar- 
dian. But Eebecca, suddenly quitting her dejected 
posture, and making her way through the attendants to 
the palfrey of the Saxon lady, knelt down, and, after the 
Oriental fashion in addressing superiors, kissed the hem 
of Eowena ’s garment. Then, rising and throwing back 
her veil, she implored her in the great name of the God 
whom they both worshiped, that she would have com- 
passion upon them, and suffer them to go forward under 
their safeguard. ‘ ‘ It is not for myself that I pray this 
favor,” said Eebecca; nor is it even for that poor old 
man. But it is in the name of one dear to many, and 
dear even to you, that I beseech you to let this sick per- 
son be transported with care and tenderness, under your 
protection. For, if evil chance him, the last moment of 
your life would be embittered with regret for denying 
that which I ask of you. ’ ’ 

The noble and solemn air with which Eebecca made 
this appeal gave it double weight with the fair Saxon. 

The man is old and feeble,” she said to her guardian, 
‘ ^ the maiden young and beautiful, their friend sick and 
in peril of his life ; Jews though they be, we cannot as 
Christians leave them in this extremity. Let them un- 
load two of the sumpter mules and put the baggage be- 
hind two of the serfs. The mules may transport the 
litter, and we have led horses for the old man and his 
daughter.” 


A WHITE DRAGON! 


149 


Cedric readily assented to what she proposed, and the 
change of baggage was hastily achieved; for the single 
word outlaws ’’ rendered every one sufficiently alert, 
and the approach of twilight made the sound yet more 
impressive. Amid the bustle, Gurth was taken from 
horseback, in the course of which removal he prevailed 
upon the Jester to slack the cord with which his arms 
were bound. It was so negligently refastened, perhaps 
intentionally, on the part of Wamba, that Gurth found 
no difficulty in freeing his arms altogether from bondage, 
and then, gliding into the thicket, he made his escape 
from the party. 

The path upon which the party traveled began to 
descend into a dingle, traversed by a brook whose banks 
were broken, swampy, and overgrown with dwarf 
willows. Cedric and Athelstane had just crossed the 
brook with a part of their followers, when they were 
assailed in front, flank, and rear at once. The shout of 
‘ ‘ A white dragon ! — a white dragon ! — St. George for 
Merry England! ’’ war-cries adopted by the assailants, 
as belonging to their assumed character of Saxon out- 
laws, was heard on every side, and enemies appeared with 
a rapidity of advance and attack which seemed to multi- 
ply their numbers. 

Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same 
moment, and each under circumstances expressive of his 
character. Cedric, the instant that an enemy appeared, 
launched at him his remaining javelin, which, taking bet- 
ter effect than that which he had hurled at Fangs, nailed 
the man against an oak tree that happened to be close be- 
hind him. Thus far successful, Cedric spurred his horse 
against a second, drawing his sword at the same time, 
and striking with such inconsiderate fury that his weapon 
encountered a thick branch which hung over him, and he 
11 


150 


IVANHOE 


was disarmed by the violence of his own blow. He was 
instantly made prisoner, and was pulled from his horse 
by two or three of the banditti who crowded around him. 
Athelstane shared his captivity, his bridle having been 
seized and he himself forcibly dismounted long before he 
could draw his weapon or assume any posture of effectual 
defense. 

The attendants, embarrassed with baggage, surprised 
and terrified at the fate of their masters, fell an easy prey 
to the assailants; while the Lady Rowena, in the center 
of the cavalcade, and the Jew and his daughter in the 
rear, experienced the same misfortune. 

Of all the train none escaped except Wamba, who 
showed upon the occasion much more courage than those 
who pretended to greater sense. He possessed himself 
of a sword belonging to one of the domestics, who was 
just drawing it with a tardy and irresolute hand, laid it 
about him like a lion, drove back several who approached 
him, and made a brave though ineffectual attempt to 
succor his master. Finding himself overpowered, the 
Jester at length threw himself from his horse, plunged 
into the thicket, and, favored by the general confusion, 
escaped from the scene of action. 

Yet the valiant Jester, as soon as he found himself 
safe, hesitated more than once whether he should not 
turn back and share the captivity of a master to whom 
he was sincerely attached. 

‘‘ I have heard men talk of the blessings of free- 
dom,’’ he said to himself, but I wish any wise man 
would teach me what use to make of it now that I 
have it. ’ ’ 

As he pronounced these words aloud, a voice very near 
him called out in a low and cautious tone, ‘‘ Wamba! ” 
and at the same time a dog, which he recognized to be 


A WHITE DRAGON! 


151 


Fangs, jumped up and fawned upon him. ‘‘ Gurth! ’’ 
answered Wamba with the same caution, and the swine- 
herd immediately stood before him. 

‘ ^ What is the matter ? ^ ’ said he, eagerly ; ^ ‘ what mean 
these cries and that clashing of swords ? ’ ’ 

Only a trick of the times/’ said Wamba; “ they are 
all prisoners.” 

Who are prisoners? ” exclaimed Gurth, impatiently. 
My lord, and my lady, and Athelstane, and Hunde- 
bert and Oswald.” 

‘ ‘ How came they prisoners ? — and to whom ? ’ ’ 

Our master was too ready to fight,” said the Jester, 
and Athelstane was not ready enough, and no other 
person was ready at all. And they are prisoners to 
green cassocks and black visors. And they lie all tum- 
bled about on the green, like the crab-apples that you 
shake down to your swine. And I would laugh at it,” 
said the honest Jester, if I could for weeping.” And 
he shed tears of unfeigned sorrow. 

Gurth ’s countenance kindled. Wamba,” he said, 
thou hast a weapon, and thy heart was ever stronger 
than thy brain ; we are only two — but a sudden attack 
from men of resolution will do much — follow me ! ” 

‘‘ Whither? and for what purpose? ” said the Jester. 
To rescue Cedric.” 

As the Jester was about to obey, a third person sud- 
denly made his appearance and commanded them both 
to halt. From his dress and arms, Wamba would have 
conjectured him to be one of those outlaws who had just 
assailed his master; but, besides that he wore no mask, 
the glittering baldric across his shoulder, with the rich 
bugle-horn w^hich it supported, as well as the calm and 
commanding expression of his voice and manner, made 
him, notwithstanding the twilight, recognize Locksley, 


152 


IVANHOE 


the yeoman who had been victorious in the contest for the 
prize of archery. “ What is the meaning of all this/’ 
said he, “ or who is it that rifle, and ransom, and make 
prisoners in these forests ? ’ ’ 

‘‘You may look at their cassocks close by,” said 
Wamba, “ and see whether they be thy children’s coats 
or no — for they are as like thine own as one green pea- 
cod is to another. ’ ’ 

“ I will learn that presently,” answered Locksley; 
“ and I charge ye, on peril of your lives, not to stir from 
the place where ye stand until I return. Obey me, 
and it shall be the better for you and your masters. 
— Yet stay, I must render myself as like these men as 
possible.” 

So saying, he unbuckled his baldric with the bugle, 
took a feather from his cap, and gave them to Wamba; 
then he drew a vizard from his pouch, and, repeating his 
charges to them to stand fast, went to execute his pur- 
pose of reconnoitering. 

“ Shall we stand fast, Gurth? ” said Wamba, “ or shall 
we e ’en give him leg-bail ? In my foolish mind, he had 
all the equipage of a thief too much in readiness to be 
himself a true man. ’ ’ 

“ Let him be the devil,” said Gurth, “ an he will. We 
can be no worse of waiting his return. If he belong 
to that party, he must already have given them the alarm, 
and it will avail nothing either to fight or fly. Besides, 
I have late experience that arrant thieves are not the 
worst men in the world to have to deal with. ’ ’ 

The yeoman returned in the course of a few minutes. ' 

“ Friend Gurth,” he said, “ I have mingled among 
yon men, and have learned to whom they belong, and 
whither they are bound. There is, I think, no chance that 
they will proceed to any actual violence against their 


A WHITE DRAGON! 


153 


prisoners. For three men to attempt them at this mo- 
ment were little else than madness ; for they are good men 
of war, and have, as such, placed sentinels to give the 
alarm when any one approaches. But I trust soon to 
gather such a force as may act in defiance of all their pre- 
cautions. You are both servants, and, as I think, faithful 
servants, of Cedric the Saxon, the friend of the rights of 
Englishmen. He shall not want English hands to help 
him in this extremity. Come, then, with me, until I 
gather more aid.’’ 

So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, 
followed by the Jester and the swineherd. It was not 
consistent with Wamba’s humor to travel long in silence. 

I think,” said he, looking at the baldric and bugle 
which he still carried, that I saw the arrow shot 
which won this gay prize, and that not so long since as 
Christmas. ’ ’ 

And I,” said Gurth, could take it on my halidome 
that I have heard the voice of the good yeoman who 
won it, by night as well as by day, and that the moon is 
not three days older since I did so. ’ ’ 

Mine honest friends,” replied the yeoman, who or 
what I am is little to the present purpose ; should I free 
your master, you will have reason to think me the best 
friend you have ever had in your lives. And whether I 
am known by one name or another, or whether I can 
draw a bow as well or better than a cow-keeper, or 
whether it is my pleasure to walk in sunshine or by 
moonlight, are matters which, as they do not concern 
you, so neither need ye busy yourselves respecting them.” 

Our heads are in the lion’s mouth,” said Wamba in 
a whisper to Gurth, get them out how we can.” 

‘‘ Hush — be silent,” said Gurth. Offend him not 
by thy folly, and I trust sincerely that all will go well. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XVII 


LOCKSLEY TO THE RESCUE 

After three hours’ good walking the servants of 
Cedric, with their mysterious guide, arrived at a small 
opening in the forest, in the center of which grew an 
oak tree of enormous magnitude. Beneath this tree four 
or five yeomen lay stretched on the ground, while another, 
as sentinel, walked to and fro. 

Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch 
instantly gave the alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly 
started up and bent their bows. Six arrows placed on 
the string were pointed towards the quarter from which 
the travelers approached, when their guide, being recog- 
nized, was welcomed with every token of respect and 
attachment. 

Where is the Miller? ” was his first question. 

‘‘ On the road towards Rotherham.” 

With how many? ” demanded the leader, for such 
he seemed to be. 

With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please 
St. Nicholas.” 

‘‘ Devoutly spoken,” said Locksley; and where is 
Allan-a-Dale ? ” 

Walked up towards the Watling Street to watch for 
the Prior of Jorvaulx. ” 

That is well thought on also,” replied the Captain; 

‘ ^ and where is the Friar ? ’ ’ 

In his cell.” 


154 


LOCKSLBY TO THE RESCUE 


155 


Thither will I go,’’ said Locksley. Disperse and 
seek your companions. Collect what force you can, for 
there’s game afoot that must be hunted hard, and will 
turn to bay. Meet me here by daybreak. — And stay,” 
he added, I have forgotten what is most necessary of 
the whole. — Two of you take the road quickly towards 
Torquilstone, the castle of Front-de-Boeuf. A set of 
gallants, who have been masquerading in such guise as 
our own, are carrying a band of prisoners thither. — 
Watch them closely, for even if they reach the castle 
before we collect our force, our honor is concerned to 
punish them, and we will find means to do so. Keep a 
close watch on them, therefore; and despatch one of 
your comrades, the lightest of foot, to bring the news of 
the yeomen thereabout.” 

They promised implicit Obedience, and departed with 
alacrity on their different errands. In the meanwhile, 
their leader and his two companions, who now looked’ 
upon him with great respect, pursued their way to the 
chapel of Copmanhurst. 

When they reached the little, moonlight glade, the 
anchorite and his guest were performing, at the full 
extent of their very powerful lungs, an old drinking song, 
of which this was the burden : 

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me. 

Bully boy, bully boy. 

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me. 

Ho ! jolly Jenkin, I spy a knave in drinking, 

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me.” 

Now, that is not ill sung,” said Wamba, who had 
thrown in a few of his own flourishes to help out the 
chorus. But who ever expected to hear such a joUy 
chant come from out a hermit ’s cell at midnight ! ’ ’ 


156 


IVANHOE 


‘‘ Marry, that should I,’’ said Gurth, for tlie jolly 
Clerk of Copmanhurst is a known man, and kills half the 
deer that are stolen in this walk.” 

While they were thus speaking, Locksley’s loud and 
repeated knocks had at length disturbed the anchorite 
and his guest. By my beads,” said the hermit, stop- 
ping short in a grand flourish, here come more be- 
nighted guests. I would not for my cowl that they found 
us in this goodly exercise. All men have their enemies, 
good Sir Sluggard ; and there be those malignant enough 
to construe the hospitable refreshment which I have been 
offering to you, a weary traveler, for the matter of three 
short hours, into sheer drunkenness and debauchery, 
vices alike alien to my profession and my disposition.” 

Base calumniators! ” replied the knight; ‘‘ I would 
I had the chastising of them. Nevertheless, Holy Clerk, 
it is true that all have their enemies ; and there be those 
in this very land whom I would rather speak to through 
the bars of my helmet than barefaced. ” 

Get thine iron pot on thy head then, friend Sluggard, 
as quickly as thy nature will permit,” said the hermit, 
“ while I remove these flagons, whose late contents 
run strangely in mine own pate ; and to drown the clat- 
ter, strike into the tune which thou hearest me sing. It 
is no matter for the words; I scarce know them myself.” 

So saying, he struck up a thundering anthem, under 
cover of which he removed the apparatus of their ban- 
quet; while the knight, laughing heartily, and arming 
himself all the while, assisted his host with his voice 
from time to time as his mirth permitted. 

What devil’s matins are you after at this hour? ” 
said a voice from without. 

“ Heaven forgive you. Sir Traveler! ” said the hermit, 
whom his own noise prevented from recognizing accents 


LOCKSLEY TO THE RESCUE 


157 


which were tolerably familiar to him. — Wend on your 
way, in the name of God and St. Dunstan, and disturb 
not the devotions of me and my holy brother. ’ ’ 

Mad priest/’ answered the voice from without, 
^ ^ open to Locksley ! ’ ’ 

All’s safe — all’s right,” said the hermit to his com- 
panion. 

‘‘ But who is he? ” said the Black Knight; it im- 
ports me much to know. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Who is he ? ” answered the hermit ; ‘ ^ I tell thee he 
is a friend.” 

But what friend? ” answered the knight; for he 
may be friend to thee and none of mine.” 

What friend? ” replied the hermit; why, he is, 
now that I bethink me a little, the very same honest 
keeper I told thee of a while since.” 

Aye, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious hermit,” 
replied the knight, ‘ ‘ I doubt it not. But undo the door 
to him before he beat it from its hinges. ’ ’ 

The hermit speedily unbolted his portal, and admitted 
Locksley, with his two companions. 

‘‘ Why, hermit,” was the yeoman’s first question as 
soon as he beheld the knight, what boon companion 
hast thou here? ” 

A brother of our order,” replied the Friar, shaking 
his head; ‘‘ we have been at our orisons all night.” 

‘‘ He is a monk of the church militant, I think,” an- 
swered Locksley; and there be more of them abroad. 
I tell thee. Friar, thou must lay down the rosary and 
take up the quarter-staff ; we shall need every one of our 
merry men, whether clerk or layman. But,” he added, 
taking him a step aside, ^ ‘ art thou mad ? to give admit- 
tance to a knight thou dost not know? Hast thou for- 
got our articles? ” 


158 


TVANHOE 


'‘Not know him! ” replied the Friar, boldly, " I know 
him as well as the beggar knows his dish. ’ ’ 

‘ ' And what is his name, then ? ’ ’ demanded Locksley. 

'' His name,’’ said the hermit — "his name is Sir 
Anthony of Scrabelstone ; as if I would drink with a 
man, and did not know his name ! ” 

' ‘ Thou hast been drinking more than enough. Friar, ’ ’ 
said the woodsman, " and, I fear, prating more than 
enough too. ’ ’ 

"Good yeoman,” said the knight, coming forward, 
" be not wroth with my merry host. He did but afford 
me the hospitality which I would have compelled from 
him if he had refused it. ’ ’ 

" Thou compel! ” said the Friar; " wait but till I 
have changed this gray gown for a green cassock, and if 
I make not a quarter-staff ring twelve upon thy pate, I 
am neither true clerk nor good woodsman.” 

Locksley led the knight a little apart, and addressed 
him thus: " Deny it not. Sir Knight, you are he who 
decided the victory to the advantage of the English 
against , the strangers on the second day of the tourna- 
ment at Ashby.” 

" And what follows if you guess truly, good yeoman ? ” 
replied the knight. 

" I should in that case hold you,” replied the yeoman, 
" a friend to the weaker party.” 

" Such is the duty of a true knight at least,” replied 
the Black Champion; " and I would not willingly that 
there were reason to think otherwise of me. ’ ’ 

" But for my purpose,” said the yeoman, " thou 
shouldst be as well a good Englishman as a good knight ; 
for that which I have to speak' of concerns, indeed, the 
duty of every honest man, but is more especially that of 
a true-born native of England. ’ ’ 


LOCKSLEY TO THE RESCUE 


159 


You can speak to no one/’ replied the knight, to 
whom England, and the life of every Englishman, can be 
dearer than to me. ’ ’ 

I would willingly believe so,” said the woodsman, 
‘‘ for never had this country such need to be supported 
by those who love her. Hear me, and I will tell thee of 
an enterprise in which, if thou be’st really that which 
thou seemest, thou mayst take an honorable part. A 
band of villains, in the disguise of better men than them- 
selves, have made themselves masters of the person of a 
noble Englishman, called Cedric the Saxon, together with 
his ward, and his friend Athelstane of Coningsburgh, 
and have transported them to a castle in this forest, 
called Torquilstone. I ask of thee, as a good knight and 
a good Englishman, wilt thou aid in their rescue ? ’ ’ 

I am bound by my vow to do so,” replied the knight. 
I have been accustomed to study men’s countenances, 
and I can read in thine honesty and resolution. I will, 
therefore, aid thee in setting at freedom these oppressed 
captives; which done, I trust we shall part better ac- 
quainted, and well satisfied with each other. ’ ’ 

The Friar was now completely accoutered as a yeo- 
man, with sword and buckler, bow and quiver, and a 
strong partisan over his shoulder. He left his cell at the 
head of the party, and, having carefully locked the 
door, deposited the key under the threshold. 

‘‘ Art thou in condition to do good service. Friar,” 
said Locksley, ‘‘ or does the brown bowl still run in thy 
head? ” 

Not more than a draught of St. Dunstan’s fountain 
will allay, ’ ’ answered the priest ; ^ ‘ something there is of 
a whizzing in my brain, and of instability in my legs, but 
you shall presently see both pass away. ’ ’ 

So saying, he stepped to the stone basin, in which the 


160 


IVANHOE 


waters of the fountain as they fell formed bubbles which 
danced in the white moonlight, and took so long a 
draught as if he had meant to exhaust the spring. 

When didst thou drink as deep a draught of water 
before, Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst? ” said the Black 
Knight. 

Never since my wine-butt leaked, and let out its 
liquor by an illegal vent,” replied the Friar, “ and so 
left me nothing to drink but my patron’s bounty here.” 

Then, plunging his hands and head into the foun- 
tain, he washed from them all marks of the midnight 
revel. 

Come on, Jack Priest,” said Locksley, ‘‘ and be 
silent; thou art as noisy as a whole convent on a holy 
eve, when the Father Abbot has gone to bed. — Come on 
you, too, my masters ; we must collect all our forces, and 
few enough we shall have, if we are to storm the castle 
of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf . ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


‘‘ WHAT MUMMERY IS THIS? ’’ 

While these measures were taking in behalf of Cedric 
and his companions, the armed men by whom the latter 
had been seized, hurried their captives along towards the 
place of security where they intended to imprison them. 
But darkness came on fast, and the paths of the wood 
seemed but imperfectly known to the marauders. They 
were compelled to make several long halts, and once 
or twice to return on their road to resume the direc- 
tion which they wished to pursue. The summer mom 
had dawned upon them ere they could travel in full 
assurance that they held the right path. But confidence 
returned with light, and the cavalcade now moved rapidly 
forward. Meanwhile, the following dialogue took place 
between the two leaders of the banditti : 

It is time thou shouldst leave us. Sir Maurice,’^ said 
the Templar to De Bracy, ‘ ^ in order to prepare the sec- 
ond part of thy mystery. Thou art next, thou knowest, 
to act the Knight Deliverer.’’ 

I have thought better of it,” said De Bracy; I will 
not leave thee till the prize is fairly deposited in Pront- 
de-Bceuf’s castle. I will not give thee the power of 
cheating me out of the fair prey for which I have run 
such risks.” 

While this dialogue was proceeding, Cedric was en- 
deavoring to wring out of those who guarded him an 
avowal of their character and purpose. ‘‘ You should be 
161 


162 


IVANHOE 


f 

Englishmen/’ said he; and yet, sacred Heaven! you 
prey upon your countrymen as if you were very Nor- 
mans. You should be my neighbors, and, if so, my 
friends ; for which of my English neighbors have reason 
to be otherwise? What, then, would you have of me? 
or in what can this violence serve ye? — Ye are worse 
than brute beasts in your actions, and will you imitate 
them in their very dumbness? ” 

It was in vain that Cedric expostulated with his guards, 
who had too many good reasons for their silence to be 
induced to break it. They continued to hurry him along, 
traveling at a very rapid rate, until Cedric saw the tur- 
rets of Front-de-Boeuf ’s castle raise their gray and moss- 
grown battlements, glimmering in the morning sun, 
above the wood by which they were surrounded. 

“ I did injustice,” he said, to the thieves and outlaws 
of these woods, when I supposed such banditti to belong 
to their bands. Tell me, dogs — is it my life or my 
wealth that your master aims at? Is it too much that 
two Saxons, myself and the noble Athelstane, should hold 
land in the country which was once the patrimony of our 
race ? — Put us, then, to death, and complete your tyr- 
anny by taking our lives, as you began with our liberties. 
If the Saxon Cedric cannot rescue England, he is willing 
to die for her. Tell your tyrannical master, I do only 
beseech him to dismiss the Lady Kowena in honor and 
safety. She is a woman, and he need not dread her ; and 
with us will die all who dare fight in her cause. ’ ’ 

The attendants remained as mute to this address as to 
the former, and they now stood before the gate of the 
castle. De Braey winded his horn three times, and the 
archers and cross-bow men, who had manned the wall 
upon seeing their approach, hastened to lower the draw- 
bridge and admit them. The prisoners were conducted 


WHAT MUMMERY IS THIS? 


163 


to an apartment where a hasty repast was offered them, 
of which none but Athelstane felt any inclination to par- 
take. Neither had the descendant of the Confessor much 
time to do justice to the good cheer placed before them, 
for their guards gave him and Cedric to understand that 
they were to be imprisoned in a chamber apart from 
Rowena. Resistance was vain ; and they were compelled 
to follow to a large room, which, rising on clumsy Saxon 
jDi’llars, resembled those refectories and chapter-houses 
which may be still seen in the most ancient parts of our 
most ancient monasteries. 

The Lady Rowena was next separated from her train, 
and conducted, with courtesy, indeed, but still without 
consulting her inclination, to a distant apartment. The 
same alarming distinction was conferred on Rebecca, in 
spite of her father ^s entreaties, who offered even money, 
in this extremity of distress, that she might be permitted 
to abide with him. ‘ ‘ Base unbeliever, ’ ’ answered one of 
his guards, ‘ ‘ when thou hast seen thy lair, thou wilt not 
wish thy daughter to partake it.’^ And, without farther 
discussion, the old Jew was forcibly dragged off in a 
different direction from the other prisoners. The domes- 
tics, after being carefully searched and disarmed, were 
confined in another part of the castle ; and Rowena was 
refused even the comfort she might have derived from 
the attendance of her handmaiden Elgitha. 

The apartment in which the Saxon chiefs were con- 
fined, although at present used as a sort of guard-room, 
had formerly been the great hall of the castle. It was 
now abandoned to meaner purposes, because the present 
lord, among other additions to the convenience, security, 
and beauty of his baronial residence, had erected a new 
and noble hall, whose vaulted roof was supported by 
lighter and more elegant pillars. 


164 


IVANHOE 


Cedric paced the apartment, filled with indignant re^ 
flections on the past and on the present, while the apathy 
of his companion served, instead of patience and philoso- 
phy, to defend him against everything save the incon- 
venience of the present moment. 

‘‘ Yes,’’ said Cedric, half speaking to himself and half 
addressing himself to Athelstane, ‘‘ it was in this very 
hall that my father feasted with Torquil Wolf ganger, 
when he entertained the valiant and unfortunate Harold, 
then advancing against the Norwegians, who had united 
themselves to the rebel Tosti. It was in this hall that 
Harold returned the magnanimous answer to the ambas- 
sador of his rebel brother. Oft have I heard my father 
kindle as he told the tale. The envoy of Tosti was ad- 
mitted, when this ample room could scarce contain the 
crowd of noble Saxon leaders who were quaffing the blood- 
red wine around their monarch. ’ ’ 

I hope,” said Athelstane, somewhat moved by this 
part of his friend’s discourse, they will not forget to 
send us some wine and refections at noon. ’ ’ 

Cedric went on with his story without noticing this 
observation of his friend: 

‘‘ The envoy of Tosti,” he said, moved up the hall, 
undismayed by the frowning countenances of all around 
him, until he made his obeisance before the throne of 
King Harold. — ‘ What terms, ’ he said, ‘ Lord King, hath 
thy brother Tosti to hope, if he should lay down his arms 
and crave peace at thy hands? ’ — ‘ A brother’s love,’ 
cried the generous Harold, ‘ and the fair earldom of 
Northumberland.’ — ^ But should Tosti accept these 
terms,’ continued the envoy, ‘ what lands shall be as- 
signed to his faithful ally, Hardrada, King of Norway? ’ 
Seven feet of English ground,’ answered Harold, 
fiercely, ‘ or, as Hardrada is said to be a giant, perhaps 


WHAT MUMMERY IS THIS? 


165 


we may allow him twelve inches more/ — The hall rung 
with acclamations, and cup and horn were filled to the 
Norwegian, who should be speedily in possession of his 
English territory/’ 

I could have pledged him with all my soul,” said 
Athelstane, for my tongue cleaves to my palate.” 

It is time lost,” muttered Cedric, apart and impa- 
tiently, to speak to him of aught else but that which 
concerns his appetite! The soul of Hardicanute hath 
taken possession of him, and he hath no pleasure save 
to fill, to swill, and to call for more. — Alas! ” said he, 
looking at Athelstane with compassion, that so dull a 
spirit should be lodged in so goodly a form ! Alas ! that 
such an enterprise as the regeneration of England should 
turn on a hinge so imperfect! Wedded to Rowena, in- 
deed, her nobler and more generous soul may yet awake 
the better nature which is torpid within him. Yet how 
should this be, while Rowena, Athelstane, and I myself 
remain the prisoners of this brutal marauder, and have 
been made so perhaps from a sense of the dangers which 
our liberty might bring to the usurped power of his 
nation? ” 

While the Saxon was plunged in these painful reflec- 
tions, the door of their prison opened and gave entrance 
to a sewer, holding his white rod of office. This impor- 
tant person advanced into the chamber with a grave pace, 
followed by four attendants, bearing in a table covered 
with dishes, the sight and smell of which seemed to be 
an instant compensation to Athelstane for all the incon- 
venience he had undergone. The persons who attended 
on the feast were masked and cloaked. 

‘‘ What mummery is this? ” said Cedric; ‘‘ think you 
that we are ignorant whose prisoners we are, when we 
are in the castle of your master? Tell him,” he eon- 
12 


166 


IVANHOE 


tinned, willing to use this opportunity to open a nego- 
tiation for his freedom — ‘‘ tell your master, Eeginald 
Front-de-Boeuf, that we know no reason he can have for 
withholding our liberty, excepting his unlawful desire to 
enrich himself at our expense. Tell him that we yield 
to his rapacity, as in similar circumstances we should do 
to that of a literal robber. Let him name the ransom at 
which he rates our liberty, and it shall be paid, provid- 
ing the exaction is suited to our means. ’ ’ 

The sewer made no answer, but bowed his head. 

And teU Sir Reginald Pront-de-Boeuf , ’ ^ said Athel- 
stane, ‘‘ that I send him my mortal defiance, and chal- 
lenge him to combat with me, on foot or horseback, at 
any secure place, within eight days after our liberation ; 
which, if he be a true knight, he will not, under these 
circumstances, venture to refuse or to delay. ’ ’ 

‘‘ I shall deliver to the knight your defiance, an- 
swered the sewer ; ‘ ‘ meanwhile I leave you to your food. ’ ’ 
The captives had not long enjoyed their refreshment, 
however, ere their attention was disturbed even from 
this most serious occupation by the blast of a horn 
winded before the gate. It was repeated three times, 
with as much violence as if it had been blown before an 
enchanted castle by the destined knight at whose sum- 
mons halls and towers, barbican and battlement, were to 
roll off like a morning vapor. The Saxons started from 
the table and hastened to the windows. But their curi- 
osity was disappointed; for these outlets only looked 
upon the court of the castle, and the sound came from 
beyond its precincts. The summons, however, seemed 
of importance, for a considerable degree of bustle in- 
stantly took place in the castle. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A THOUSAND POUNDS OF SILVER 

Leaving the Saxon chiefs to return to their banquet, 
we have to look in upon the yet more severe imprison- 
ment of Isaac of York. The poor Jew had been hastily 
thrust into a dungeon-vault of the castle, the floor of 
which was deep beneath the level of the ground, and very 
damp, being lower than even the moat itself. The only 
light was received through one or two loop-holes far 
above the reach of the captive’s hand. These apertures 
admitted, even at mid-day, only a dim and uncertain 
light. Chains and shackles hung rusted and empty on 
the walls. At one end of this ghastly apartment was a 
large flre-grate, over the top of which were stretched 
some transverse iron bars, half-devoured with rust. 

The whole appearance of the dungeon might have 
appalled a stouter heart than that of Isaac, who, never- 
theless, was composed under the imminent pressure of 
danger. He had experience to guide him, as well as 
hope that he might again, as formerly, be delivered as 
a prey from the fowler. Above all, he had upon his 
side that unbending resolution with which Israelites have 
been frequently known to submit to the uttermost evils 
which power and violence can inflict upon them, rather 
than gratify their oppressors by granting their demands. 

In this humor of passive resistance, and with his 
garment collected beneath him to keep his limbs from 
the wet pavement, Isaac sat in a corner of his dungeon. 
167 


168 


IVANHOE 


The Jew remained without altering his position for 
nearly three hours, at the expiry of which steps were 
heard on the dungeon stair. The bolts screamed as they 
were withdrawn, the hinges creaked as the wicket opened, 
and Reginald Front-de-Bceuf, followed by the two Sara- 
cen slaves of the Templar, entered the prison. 

Each of the black slaves had in his hand a small pan- 
nier ; and, when they entered the dungeon, they stopped 
at the door until Front-de-Boeuf himself carefully locked 
and double-locked it. Having taken this precaution, 
he advanced slowly up the apartment. He paused 
within three steps of the corner in which the unfortunate 
Jew had now, as it were, coiled himself up into the 
smallest possible space, and made a sign for one of the 
slaves to approach. The black satellite came forward, 
and, producing from his basket a large pair of scales 
and several weights, he laid them at the feet of Front- 
de-Boeuf, and again retired. 

Most accursed dog of an accursed race,” Front-de- 
Boeuf said, awaking with his deep and sullen voice the 
sullen echoes of his dungeon-vault, seest thou these 
scales? ” 

The unhappy Jew returned a feeble affirmative. 

‘ ‘ In these very scales shalt thou weigh me out, ’ ’ said 
the relentless Baron, a thousand silver pounds, after 
the just measure and weight of the Tower of London.” 

‘‘ Holy Abraham! ” returned the Jew, finding voice 
through the very extremity of his danger, heard man 
ever such a demand ? — Who ever heard, even in a min- 
streFs tale, of such a sum as a thousand pounds of 
silver? — Not within the walls of York, ransack my 
house and that of all my tribe, wilt thou find the tithe j 
of that huge sum of silver that thou speakest of.” 

“ I am reasonable,” answered Front-de-Boeuf, ‘‘ and 




A THOUSAND POUNDS OF SILVEB 


169 


if silver be scant, I refuse not gold. At the rate of a 
mark of gold for each six pounds of silver, thou shalt 
free thy unbelieving carcass from such punishment as 
thy heart has never even conceived.^’ 

‘‘ Have mercy on me, noble knight! ’’ exclaimed 
Isaac; I am old, and poor, and helpless. It were un- 
worthy to triumph over me. — It is a poor deed to crush 
a worm.^’ 

‘‘ Old thou mayst be,’’ replied the knight; ‘‘more 
shame to their folly who have suffered thee to grow gray 
in usury and knavery. — Feeble thou mayest be, for when 
had a Jew either heart or hand? — But rich it is well 
known thou art.” 

“ I swear to you, noble knight,” said the Jew, “ by all 
which I believe, and by all which we believe in com- 
mon — ” 

“ Perjure not thyself,” said the Norman, interrupting 
him, “ and let not thine obstinacy seal thy doom, until 
thou hast seen and well considered the fate that awaits 
thee.” 

He again made a signal for the slaves to approach, 
and spoke to them apart, in their own language. The 
Saracens produced from their baskets a quantity of 
charcoal, a pair of bellows, and a flask of oil. While 
the one struck a light with a flint and steel, the other 
disposed the charcoal in the large, rusty grate, and ex- 
ercised the bellows until the fuel came to a red glow. 

“ Seest thou, Isaac,” said Pront-de-Bceuf, “ the range 
of iron bars above that glowing charcoal ? — On that 
warm couch thou shalt lie, stripped of thy clothes as if 
thou wert to rest on a bed of down. One of these slaves 
shall maintain the Are beneath thee, while the other 
shall anoint thy wretched limbs with oil, lest the roast 
should burn. — Now, choose betwixt such a scorching bed 


170 


IVANHOE 


and the payment of a thousand pounds of silver ; for, by 
the head of my father, thou hast no other option/^ 

“ So may Abraham, Jacob, and all the fathers of our 
people assist me,” said Isaac, “ I cannot make the choice, 
because I have not the means of satisfying your exorbi- 
tant demand! ” 

“ Seize him and strip him, slaves,” said the knight, 
‘‘ and let the fathers of his race assist him if they can.” 

The Jew looked at the glowing furnace over which he 
was presently to be stretched, and, seeing no chance of 
his tormentor’s relenting, his resolution gave way. 

‘‘ I will pay,” he said, ‘‘ the thousand pounds of 
silver. — That is,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “ I 
will pay it with the help of my brethren ; for I must beg 
as a mendicant at the door of our synagogue ere I make 
up so unheard-of a sum. — When and where must it be 
delivered? ” 

‘ ‘ Here, ’ ’ replied Front-de-Boeuf — ‘ ‘ here it must be 
delivered ; weighed it must be — weighed and told down 
on this very dungeon floor. — Thinkest thou I will part 
with thee until thy ransom is secure ? ’ ’ 

The Jew groaned deeply. ‘‘ Grant me,” he said, ‘‘ at 
least, with my own liberty, that of the companions with 
whom I travel. They scorned me as a Jew, yet they 
pitied my desolation, and because they tarried to aid me 
by the way a share of my evil hath come upon them; 
moreover, they may contribute in some sort to my ran- 
som. ’ ’ 

If thou meanest yonder Saxon churls,” said Front- 
de-Boeuf, ‘‘ their ransom will depend upon other terms 
than thine. Mind thine own concerns, Jew, I warn thee, 
and meddle not with those of others.” 

I am, then,” said Isaac, only to be set at liberty, 
together with mine wounded friend? ” 


A THOUSAND POUNDS OF SILVER 


171 


Shall I twice recommend it/’ said Front-de-Boeuf, 
to a son of Israel, to meddle with his own concerns, 
and leave those of others alone? Since thou hast made 
thy choice, it remains but that thou payest down thy 
ransom. When shall I have the shekels, Isaac? ” 

Let my daughter Rebecca go forth to York,” an- 
swered Isaac, ‘‘ with your safe-conduct, noble knight, 
and so soon as man and horse can return, the treas- 
ure — ” 

Thy daughter! ” said Front-de-Boeuf, as if sur- 
prised, by heavens, Isaac, I would I had known of this. 
I gave yonder black-browed girl to be a handmaiden to 
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert. ” 

The yell which Isaac raised at this unfeeling commu- 
nication made the very vault to ring, and astounded the 
two Saracens so much that they let go their hold of the 
Jew. He availed himself of his enlargement to throw 
himself on the pavement and clasp the knees of Front- 
de-Boeuf. 

Take all that you have asked,” said he, Sir Knight; 
take ten times more — reduce me to ruin and to beggary, 
if thou wilt, — nay, pierce me with thy poniard, broil me 
on that furnace ; but spare my daughter, spare the honor 
of a helpless maiden. She is the image of my deceased 
Rachel — she is the last of six pledges of her love. Will 
you deprive a widowed husband of his sole remaining 
comfort? ” 

“ Dog of an infidel,” said Front-de-Boeuf, ‘‘ take 
thought to pay me the ransom thou hast promised, or 
woe betide thy Jewish throat! ” 

‘‘ Robber and villain! ” said the Jew, retorting the 
insults of his oppressor with passion, which, however 
impotent, he now found it impossible to bridle, ‘‘ I will 
pay thee nothing — not one silver penny will I pay thee 


172 


IVANHOE 


— unless my daughter is delivered to me in safety and 
honor! 

‘‘ Art thou in thy senses, Israelite? ” said the Nor- 
man, sternly; has thy flesh and blood a charm against 
heated iron and scalding oil? ” 

“ I care not! ’’ said the Jew, rendered desperate by 
paternal affection; ‘‘ do thy worst. My daughter is my 
flesh and blood, dearer to me a thousand times than 
those limbs which thy cruelty threatens. Take my life 
if thou wilt, and say the Jew, amid his tortures, knew 
how to disappoint the Christian.’’ 

‘‘We shall see that,” said Front-de-Boeuf ; “ for by 
the blessed rood, thou shalt feel the extremities of fire 
and steel! — Strip him, slaves, and chain him down 
upon the bars.” 

In spite of the feeble struggles of the old man, the 
Saracens had already torn from him his upper garment, 
and were proceeding totally to disrobe him, when the 
sound of a bugle, thrice winded without the castle, pene- 
trated even to the recesses of the dungeon, and immedi- 
ately after loud voices were heard calling for Sir Reg- 
inald Front-de-Boeuf. Unwilling to be found engaged 
in his hellish occupation, the savage Baron gave the 
slaves a signal to restore Isaac’s garment, and, quitting 
the dungeon with his attendants, he left the Jew to 
thank God for his own deliverance, or to lament over 
his daughter’s captivity, as his personal or parental 
feelings might prove strongest. 


CHAPTER XX 


HOW DE BRACY MADE LOVE 

The apartment to which the Lady Rowena had been 
introduced was fitted up with some rude attempts at 
ornament and magnificence. Here she was left to medi- 
tate upon her fate, until the actors in this nefarious 
drama had arranged the several parts which each of 
them was to perform. This had been settled in a coun- 
cil held by Pront-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar, 
in which they had at length determined the fate of 
their unhappy prisoners. 

It was about the hour of noon, therefore, when De 
Bracy appeared to prosecute his views upon the hand 
and possessions of the Lady Rowena. 

The interval had not entirely been bestowed in hold- 
ing council with his confederates, for De Bracy had 
found leisure to decorate his person with all the foppery 
of the times. He saluted Rowena by doffing his velvet 
bonnet. With this, he gently motioned the lady to a 
seat ; and, as she still retained her standing posture, the 
knight ungloved his right hand, and motioned to con- 
duct her thither. But Rowena declined, by her gesture, 
the proffered compliment, and replied: ‘‘ If I be in 
the presence of my jailer, Sir Knight, it best be- 
comes his prisoner to remain standing till she learns her 
doom. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Alas ! fair Rowena, ’ ^ returned De Bracy, ‘ ‘ you are 
in presence of your captive, not your jailer; and it is 
173 


174 


IVANHOE 


from your fair eyes that De Bracy must receive that 
doom which you fondly expect from him. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I know you not, sir, ’ ’ said the lady, drawing herself 
up with all the pride of offended rank and beauty; 
‘‘ and the insolent familiarity with which you apply to 
me the jargon of a troubadour forms no apology for the 
violence of a robber.’’ 

That I am unknown to you,” said De Bracy, is 
indeed my misfortune; yet let me hope that De Bracy ’s 
name has not been always unspoken when minstrels or 
heralds have praised deeds of chivalry.” 

‘‘ To heralds and to minstrels, then, leave thy praise. 
Sir Knight,” replied Rowena; and tell me which of 
them shall record in song, or in book of tourney, the 
memorable conquest of this night, a conquest obtained 
over an old man, followed by a few timid hinds ; and its 
booty, an unfortunate maiden transported against her 
will to the castle of a robber? ” 

‘‘ You are unjust. Lady Rowena,” said the knight, 
biting his lips in some confusion ; ^ ‘ yourself free from 
passion, you can allow no excuse for the frenzy of an- 
other, although caused by your own beauty. ’ ’ 

I pray you, Sir Knight,” said Rowena, to cease a 
language so commonly used by strolling minstrels that it 
becomes not the mouth of knights or nobles. Certes, 
you constrain me to sit down, since you enter upon such 
commonplace terms.” 

‘‘ Proud damsel,” said De Bracy, incensed at finding 
his gallant style procured him nothing but contempt, 
proud damsel, thou shalt be as proudly encountered. 
It is meeter for thy humor to be wooed with bow and 
bill than in set terms and in courtly language.” 

‘ ‘ Courtesy of tongue, ’ ’ said Rowena, ‘ ‘ when it is 
used to veil churlishness of deed, is but a knight ’s girdle 


HOW DE BRACY MADE LOVE 


175 


around the breast of a base clown. I wonder not that 
the restraint appears to gall you — more it were for your 
honor to have retained the dress and language of an out- 
law than to veil the deeds of one under an affectation of 
gentle language and demeanor.’’ 

You counsel well, lady,” said the Norman; and in 
the bold language which best justifies bold action, I tell 
thee, thou shalt never leave this castle, or thou shalt 
leave it as Maurice de Bracy’s wife. I am not wont to 
be baffled in my enterprises, nor needs a Norman noble 
scrupulously to vindicate his conduct to a Saxon maiden 
whom he distinguishes by the offer of his hand. How 
else wouldst thou escape from the mean precincts of a 
country grange, where Saxons herd with the swine which 
form their wealth, to take thy seat, honored as thou 
shouldst be, and shalt be, amid all in England that is 
distinguished by beauty or dignified by power? ” 

Sir Knight,” replied Rowena, the grange which 
you contemn hath been my shelter from infancy; and, 
trust me, when I leave it — should that day ever arrive 
— it shall be with one who has not learned to despise 
the dwelling and manners in which I have been brought 
up.” 

‘ ^ I guess your meaning, lady, ’ ’ said De Bracy. ‘ ‘ But 
dream not that Richard Coeur-de-Lion will ever resume 
his throne, far less that Wilfred of Ivanhoe, his minion, 
will ever lead thee to his footstool, to be there welcomed 
as the bride of a favorite. Know, lady, that this rival 
is in my power, and that it rests but with me to betray 
the secret of his being wifhin the castle to Front-de- 
Boeuf, whose jealousy will be more fatal than mine.” 

‘‘ Wilfred here! ” said Rowena, in disdain; that is 
as true as that Pront-de-Bceuf is his rival.” 

De Bracy looked at her steadily for an instant. 


176 


IVANHOE 


Wert thou really ignorant of this? ’’ said he; “didst 
thou not know that Wilfred of Ivanhoe traveled in the 
litter of the Jew? — a meet conveyance for the crusader 
whose doughty arm was to reconquer the Holy Sepul- 
cher ! ’ ’ And he laughed scornfully. 

“ And if he is here/’ said Rowena, compelling herself 
to a tone of indifference, though trembling with an agony 
of apprehension which she could not suppress, ‘ ‘ in what 
is he the rival of Front-de-Boeuf ? or what has he to fear 
beyond a short imprisonment and an honorable ransom, 
according to the use of chivalry? ” 

“ Rowena,” said De Bracy, “ knowest thou not there 
is a jealousy of ambition and of wealth, as well as of love ; 
and that this our host, Pront-de-Boeuf, will push from 
his road him who opposes his claim to the fair barony 
of Ivanhoe ? ” 

“ Save him, for the love of Heaven! ” said Rowena, 
her firmness giving way under terror for her lover’s 
impending fate. 

“ I can — I will — it is my purpose,” said De Bracy ; 

‘ ‘ but it is thy love must buy his protection. Thy lover 
lies wounded in this castle — thy preferred lover. He 
is a bar betwixt Front-de-Boeuf and that which Front- 
de-Boeuf loves better than either ambition or beauty. 
What will it cost beyond the blow of a poniard, or the 
thrust of a javelin, to silence his opposition forever? 
Nay, were Front-de-Boeuf afraid to justify a deed so 
open, let the leech but give his patient a wrong draught, 
let the chamberlain, or the nurse who tends him, but 
pluck the pillow from his head, and Wilfred, in his pres- 
ent condition, is sped without the effusion of blood.” 

Hitherto Rowena had sustained her part in this try- 
ing scene with undismayed courage; but when her eyes 
were opened to the extent of her own danger, as well as 


HOW DE BRACY MADE LOVE 


177 


that of her lover and her guardian ; and when she found 
her will, the slightest expression of which was wont to 
command respect and attention, now placed in opposi- 
tion to that of a man of a strong, fierce, and determined 
mind, who possessed the advantage over her, and was 
resolved to use it, she quailed before him. 

After casting her eyes around, as if to look for the aid 
which was nowhere to be found, and after a few broken 
interjections, she raised her hands to heaven, and burst 
into a passion of uncontrolled vexation and sorrow. It 
was impossible to see so beautiful a creature in such 
extremity without feeling for her, and De Bracy was not 
unmoved, though he was yet more embarrassed than 
touched. He had, in truth, gone too far to recede ; and 
yet, in Rowena’s present condition, she could not be 
acted on either by argument or threats. He paced the 
apartment to and fro, now vainly exhorting the terrified 
maiden to compose herself, now hesitating concerning 
his own line of conduct. 

Agitated by these thoughts, he could only bid the 
unfortunate Rowena be comforted, and assure her that 
as yet she had no reason for the excess of despair to 
which she was now giving way. But in this task of con- 
solation De Bracy was interrupted by the horn, ‘ ‘ hoarse- 
winded blowing far and keen,’^ which had at the same 
time alarmed the other inmates of the castle. Of them 
all, perhaps, De Bracy least regretted the interruption ; 
for his conference with the Lady Rowena had arrived at 
a point where he found it equally difficult to prosecute 
or to resign his enterprise. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE JEWESS AND THE TEMPLAR 

While the scenes we have described were passing in 
other parts of the castle, the Jewess Rebecca awaited 
her fate in a distant and sequestered turret. On being 
thrust into the little cell, she found herself in the pres- 
ence of an old sibyl, who kept murmuring to herself a 
Saxon rhyme, as if to beat time to the revolving dance 
which her spindle was performing upon the floor. 

‘‘ What deviPs deed have they now in the wind? ” 
said the old hag, murmuring to herself, yet from time to 
time casting a sidelong and malignant glance at Re- 
becca; ‘‘ but it is easy to guess. Bright eyes, black 
locks, and a skin like paper. Outlandish, too,’’ she said, 
marking the dress and turban of Rebecca. What 
country art thou of ? — a Saracen or an Egyptian ? 
Why dost not answer? Thou canst weep, canst thou 
not speak? ” 

Be not angry, good mother,” said Rebecca. 

‘ ‘ Thou needst say no more, ’ ’ replied Ulrica ; ‘ ‘ men 
know a fox by the train, and a Jewess by her tongue.” 

‘‘ For the sake of mercy,” said Rebecca, ‘‘ tell me 
what I am to expect as the conclusion of the violence 
which hath dragged me hither ! Is it my life they seek, 
to atone for my religion? I will lay it down cheer- 
fully.” 

‘‘Thy life, minion!” answered the sibyl; “what 
would taking thy life pleasure them ? — trust me, thy 

178 


THE JEWESS AND THE TEMPLAR 


179 


life is in no peril. Look at me — I was as young and 
twice as fair as thou, when Pront-de-Boeuf, father of 
this Reginald, and his Normans, stormed this castle. 
My father and his seven sons defended their inheritance 
from story to story, from chamber to chamber. There 
was not a room, not a step of the stair, that was not 
slippery with their blood. They died — they died every 
man ; and ere their bodies were cold, and ere their blood 
was dried, I had become the prey and the scorn of the 
conqueror! ’’ 

^ ‘ Is there no help ? — are there no means of escape ? ^ ’ 
said Rebecca. Richly, richly would I requite thine 
aid.’^ 

‘ ^ Think not of it, ’ ’ said the hag ; ‘ ‘ from hence there 
is no escape but through the gates of death. Fare thee 
well, Jewess! — Jew or Gentile, thy fate would be the 
same; for thou hast to do with them that have neither 
scruple nor pity.’’ 

Stay! stay! for Heaven’s sake! ” said Rebecca, 
‘ ‘ stay, though it be to curse and to revile me — thy 
presence is yet some protection.” 

The presence of the mother of God were no protec- 
tion,” answered the old woman. There she stands,” 
pointing to a rude image of the Virgin Mary; see if she 
can avert the fate that awaits thee.” 

Rebecca was now to expect a fate even more dreadful 
than that of Rowena. Yet had the Jewess this advan- 
tage, that she was better prepared by habits of thought, 
and by natural strength of mind, to encounter danger. 
Prom her father’s example and injunctions, Rebecca 
had learned to bear herself courteously towards all who 
approached her. Prepared to expect adverse circum- 
stances, she had acquired the firmness necessary for 
acting under them. Her present situation required all 


180 


IVANHOE 


her presence of mind, and she summoned it up accord- 
ingly. 

Her first care was to inspect the apartment; but it 
afforded few hopes either of escape or protection. The 
door had no inside bolt or bar. The single window 
opened upon an embattled space surmounting the tur- 
ret, which had no communication with any other part 
of the battlements, being an isolated balcony. There 
was therefore no hope but in passive fortitude, and in 
that strong reliance on Heaven natural to great and 
generous characters. 

The prisoner trembled, however, and changed color, 
when a step was heard on the stair, and the door of the 
turret-chamber slowly opened, and a tall man, dressed as 
one of those banditti to whom they owed their misfor- 
tune, slowly entered, and shut the door behind him. 
His cap, pulled down upon his brows, concealed the upper 
part of his face, and he held his mantle in such a manner 
as to muffle the rest. Eebecca, making an effort upon 
herself, had time to anticipate his explanation. She had 
already unclasped two costly bracelets and a collar, 
which she hastened to proffer to the supposed outlaw, 
concluding naturally that to gratify his avarice was to 
bespeak his favor. 

‘‘ Take these,’’ she said, ‘‘ good friend, and for God’s 
sake be merciful to me and my aged father. These 
ornaments are of value, yet are they trifling to what he 
would bestow to obtain our dismissal from this castle 
free and uninjured.” 

‘‘It is well spoken,” replied the outlaw in French; 
“ but know, bright lily of the vale of Baca! that thy 
father is already in the hands of a powerful alchemist, 
who knows how to convert into gold and silver even the 
rusty bars of a dungeon grate. The venerable Isaac is 


THE JEWESS AND THE TEMPLAR 


181 


subjected to an alembic which will distill from him 
all he holds dear, without any assistance from my re- 
quests or thy entreaty. ’ ’ 

‘ ^ Thou art no outlaw, ’ ’ said Eebecca, in the same lan- 
guage in which he addressed her; no outlaw had re- 
fused such offers. No outlaw in this land uses the dia- 
lect in which thou hast spoken. Thou art no outlaw, 
but a Norman — a Norman, noble perhaps in birth. Oh, 
be so in thy actions, and cast off this fearful mask of 
outrage and violence! ” 

And thou, who canst guess so truly,’’ said Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, dropping the mantle from his face, ‘‘ art 
no true daughter of Israel, but in all save youth and 
beauty a very witch of Endor.” 

‘ ‘ What wouldst thou have of me, ’ ’ said Kebecca, ‘ ‘ if 
not my wealth? — We can have nought in common be- 
tween us — you are a Christian — I am a Jewess.” 

Thou art keen-witted, Jewess,” replied the Templar. 

One thing only can save thee, Eebecca. Submit to 
thy fate, embrace our religion, and thou shalt go forth 
in such state that many a Norman lady shall yield as 
well in pomp as in beauty to the favorite of the best 
lance among the defenders of the Temple.” 

Submit to my fate! ” said Eebecca; and, sacred 
Heaven! to what fate! — embrace thy religion! and 
what religion can it be that harbors such a villain? — 
thou the best lance of the Templars ! — craven knight ! 
— forsworn priest! I spit at thee, and I defy thee. — 
The God of Abraham hath opened an escape to his 
daughter — even from this abyss of infamy ! ’ ’ 

As she spoke, she threw open the latticed window 
which led to the balcony, and, in an instant after, stood 
on the very verge of the parapet, with not the slightest 
screen between her and the tremendous depth below. 

13 


182 


LVANHOE 


Unprepared for such a desperate effort, for she had hith- 
erto stood perfectly motionless, Bois-Guilbert had time 
neither to intercept nor to stop her. As he offered to ad- 
vance, she exclaimed, Eemain where thou art, proud 
Templar, or at thy choice advance ! — one foot nearer, 
and I plunge myself from the precipice. ’ ^ 

As she spoke this, she clasped her hands and extended 
them towards heaven, as if imploring mercy on her soul 
before she made the final plunge. The Templar hesi- 
tated, and a resolution which had never yielded to pity 
or distress gave way to his admiration of her fortitude. 
‘ ^ Come down, ’ ^ he said, ‘ ‘ rash girl ! — I swear by earth, 
and sea, and sky, I will offer thee no offense. Many a 
law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word 
never. ’ ’ 

“ I will then trust thee,’' said Rebecca, thus far; ” 
and she descended from the verge of the battlement, but 
remained standing close by one of the embrasures. 

Here,” she said, ‘‘ I take my stand. Remain where 
thou art.” 

While Rebecca spoke thus, her high and firm resolve, 
which corresponded so well with the expressive beauty 
of her countenance, gave to her looks, air, and manner a 
dignity that seemed more than mortal. The thought 
that she had her fate at her command gave a deeper 
color to her complexion, and a yet more brilliant fire 
to her eye. Bois-Guilbert, proud himself and high- 
spirited, thought he had never beheld beauty so animated 
and commanding. 

Let there be peace between us, Rebecca,” he 
said. She who could prefer death to dishonor must 
have a proud and powerful soul. Mine thou must 
be! — Nay, start not,” he added, ‘‘it must be with 
thine own consent, and on thine own terms. Thou must 


THE JEWESS AND THE TEMPLAR 


183 


consent to share with me hopes more extended than can 
be viewed from the throne of a monarch! Hear me 
ere you answer, and judge ere you refuse. The Tem- 
plar loses his social rights, his power of free agency, 
but he becomes a member of a mighty body, before which 
thrones already tremble. Of this mighty Order I am 
no mean member, but already one of the Chief Com- 
manders, and may well aspire one day to hold the 
baton of Grand Master. But that bugle-sound an- 
nounces something which may require my presence. 
Think on what I have said. — Farewell — I will soon re- 
turn, and hold further conference with thee. ^ ’ 


CHAPTER XXII 


A FORMAL LETTER OP DEFIANCE 

When the Templar reached the hall of the castle, he 
found l)e Bracy already there. ‘‘ Your love-suit,’’ said 
De Bracy, ‘‘ hath, I suppose, been disturbed, like mine, 
by this obstreperous summons. By the bones of Thomas 
a Becket, the Lady Rowena must have heard that I can- 
not endure the sight of women’s tears.” 

‘ ‘ Away ! ’ ’ said the Templar ; ‘ ‘ thou a leader of a 
Free Company, and regard a woman’s tears! A few 
drops sprinkled on the torch of love make the flame 
blaze the brighter. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Many thanks for the few drops of thy sprinkling, ’ ’ 
replied De Bracy; ‘‘ but this damsel hath wept enough 
to extinguish a beacon-light. Never was such wringing 
of hands and such overflowing of eyes since the days of 
St. Niobe, of whom Prior Aymer told us. A water-fiend 
hath possessed the fair Saxon.” 

They were soon after joined by Pront-de-Boeuf, who 
had been disturbed in the manner with which the reader 
is acquainted, and had only tarried to give some neces- 
sary directions. ‘‘ Let us see the cause of this cursed 
clamor,” said Front-de-Boeuf ; here is a letter, and, if 
I mistake not, it is in Saxon. ’ ’ 

. He looked at it, turning it round and round as if he 
had really some hopes of coming at the meaning b^ 
inverting the position of the paper, and then handed it 
to De Bracy. 


184 


A FORMAL LETTER OP DEFIANCE 


185 


It may be magic spells for aught I know/’ said De 
Bracy. 

Give it me/’ said the Templar. We have that 
of the priestly character, that we have some knowledge 
to enlighten our valor.” 

Let us profit by your most reverend knowledge, 
then,” said De Bracy; ‘‘ what says the scroll? ” 

It is a formal letter of defiance,” answered the 
Templar ; ‘ ^ but, by our Lady of Bethlehem, if it be not 
a foolish jest, it is the most extraordinary cartel that 
ever was sent across the drawbridge of a baronial castle. ’ ’ 
' ‘ Jest ! ” said Front-de-Boeuf , ‘ ‘ I would gladly know 
who dares jest with me in such a matter. — Read it. Sir 
Brian. ’ ’ 

The Templar accordingly read it as follows : — 

I, Wamba, the son of Witless, jester to a noble and 
freeborn man, Cedric of Rotherwood, called the Saxon: 
and I, Gurth, the son of Beowulph, swineherd — ” 

Thou art mad,” said Front-de-Boeuf, interrupting 
the reader. 

By St. Luke, it is so set down,” answered the Tem- 
plar. Then, resuming his task, he went on, — 

I, Gurth, the son of Beowulph, swineherd unto the 
said Cedric, with the assistance of our allies and con- 
federates, who make common cause with us in this our 
feud, namely, the good knight,- called for the present 
the Black Sluggard, and the stout yeoman, Robert 
Locksley, called Cleave-the-Wand, to you, Reginald 
Front-de-Boeuf, and your allies and accomplices whom- 
soever, to wit, that whereas you have, without cause 
given or feud declared, wrongfully and by mastery 


186 


IVANHOE 


seized upon the person of our lord and master 
the said Cedric; also upon the person of a noble and 
freeborn damsel, the Lady Rowena of Hargottstand- 
stede ; also upon the person of a noble and freeborn man, 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh ; also upon the persons of 
certain freeborn men, their attendants; also upon cer- 
tain serfs, their born bondsmen ; also upon a certain Jew, 
named Isaac of York, together with his daughter, a Jew- 
ess, and certain horses and mules: which noble persons, 
with their attendants and slaves, and also with the horses 
and mules, Jew and Jewess before said, were all in peace 
with his Majesty, and traveling as liege subjects upon 
the king’s highway; therefore we require and demand 
that the said noble persons, namely, Cedric of Rother- 
wood, Rowena of Hargottstandstede, Athelstane of Con- 
ingsburgh, with their servants, attendants, and follow- 
ers, also the horses and mules, Jew and Jewess aforesaid, 
together with all goods and chattels to them pertaining, 
be, within an hour after the delivery hereof, delivered 
to us, or to those whom we shall appoint to receive the 
same, and that untouched and unharmed in body and 
goods. Failing of which, we do pronounce to you, that 
we hold ye as robbers and traitors, and will wager our 
bodies against ye in battle, siege, or otherwise, and do 
our utmost to your annoyance and destruction. Where- 
fore may God have you in His keeping. — Signed by us 
upon the eve of St. Withold’s day, under the great 
trysting oak in the Harthill Walk, the above being writ- 
ten by a holy man, clerk to God, our Lady, and St. 
Dunstan, in the chapel of Copmanhurst. ” 

At the bottom of this document was scrawled, in the 
first place, a rude sketch of a cock’s head and comb, with 
a legend expressing this hieroglyphic to be the sign- 


A FORMAL LETTER OF DEFIANCE 


187 


manual of Wamba, son of Witless. Under this respecta- 
ble emblem stood a cross, stated to be the mark of Gurth, 
the son of Beowulph. Then was written, in rough, bold 
characters, the words. The Black Sluggard. And, to 
conclude the whole, an arrow, neatly enough drawn, was 
described as the mark of the yeoman, Locksley. 

The knights heard this uncommon document read from 
end to end, and then gazed upon each other in silent 
amazement. De Bracy was the first to break silence, 
by an uncontrollable fit of laughter, wherein he was 
joined, though with more moderation, by the Templar. 
Front-de-Boeuf, on the contrary, seemed impatient of 
their ill-timed jocularity. 

I give you plain warning,’’ he said, fair sirs, that 
you had better consult how to bear yourselves under 
these circumstances, than give way to such misplaced 
merriment.” 

‘‘ Front-de-Boeuf has not recovered his temper since 
his late overthrow, ’ ’ said De Bracy to the Templar ; “ he 
is cowed at the very idea of a cartel, though it come but 
from a fool and a swineherd.” 

By St. Michael,” answered Front-de-Boeuf, I 
would thou couldst stand the whole brunt of this adven- 
ture thyself, De Bracy. These fellows dared not have 
acted with such inconceivable impudence, had they not 
been supported by some strong bands. There are enough 
outlaws in this forest to resent my protecting the 
deer. I did but tie one fellow, who was taken red- 
handed and in the fact, to the horns of a wild stag, which 
gored him to death in five minutes, and I had as many 
arrows shot at me as there were launched against yon- 
der target at Ashby. — Here, fellow, ’ ’ he added, to one 
of his attendants, hast thou sent out to see by what 
force this precious challenge is to be supported? ” 


188 


IVANHOE 


‘ ‘ There are at least two hundred men assembled in the 
woods/’ answered the squire. 

Here is a proper matter! ” said Pront-de-Boeuf ; 
‘‘ this comes of lending you the use of my castle, that 
cannot manage your undertaking quietly, but you must 
bring this nest of hornets about my ears ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Of hornets ! ’ ’ said De Bracy ; ^ ‘ of stingless drones 
rather ; a band of lazy knaves, who take to the wood and 
destroy the venison rather than labor for their main- 
tenance! ” 

Stingless! ” replied Pront-de-Boeuf; ‘‘ fork-headed 
shafts of a cloth-yard in length, and these shot within the 
breadth of a Prench crown, are sting enough.” 

Por shame. Sir Knight! ” said the Templar. ‘‘ Let 
us summon our people and sally forth upon them. One 
knight — aye, one man-at-arms — were enough for twenty 
such peasants.” 

^ ‘ Enough, and too much, ’ ’ said De Bracy ; ‘ ^ I should 
only be ashamed to couch lance against them. ’ ’ 

True,” answered Pront-de-Boeuf; were they black 
Turks or Moors, Sir Templar, or the craven peasants of 
Prance, most valiant De Bracy; but these are English 
yeomen, over whom we shall have no advantage, save 
what we may derive from our arms and horses, which will 
avail us little in the glades of the forest. Sally, saidst 
thou? We have scarce men enough to defend the castle. 
The best of mine are at York; so is all your band, De 
Bracy ; and we have scarcely twenty, besides the handful 
that were engaged in this mad business.” 

Thou dost not fear,” said the Templar, that 
they can assemble in force sufficient to attempt the 
castle? ” 

‘‘ Not so. Sir Brian,” answered Pront-de-Boeuf. 
‘‘ These outlaws have indeed a daring captain; but with- 


A FORMAL LETTER OF DEFIANCE 


189 


out machines, scaling ladders, and experienced leaders, 
my castle may defy them. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Send to thy neighbors, ’ ^ said the Templar ; ^ ‘ let them 
assemble their people and come to the rescue of three 
knights, besieged by a jester and a swineherd in the baro- 
nial castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf ! ’’ 

You jest. Sir Knight,’’ answered the baron; but to 
whom should I send? Malvoisin is by this time at York 
with his retainers, and so are my other allies; and so 
should I have been, but for this infernal enterprise.” 

Then send to York and recall our people,” said De 
Bracy. If they abide the shaking of my standard, or 
the sight of my Free Companions, I will give them credit 
for the boldest outlaws ever bent bow in greenwood. ’ ’ 

‘‘ And who shall bear such a message? ” said Front- 
de-Boeuf; they will beset every path, and rip the er- 
rand out of his bosom. — I have it,” he added, after paus- 
ing for a moment. ‘‘ Sir Templar, thou canst write as 
well as read; thou shalt return an answer to this bold 
challenge.” 

‘ ‘ I would rather do it at the sword ’s point than at that 
of the pen,” said Bois-Guilbert ; but be it as you will.” 

He sat down accordingly, and indicted, in the French 
language, an epistle of the following tenor : 

‘‘ Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, with his noble and 
knightly allies and confederates, receives no defiances at 
the hands of slaves, bondsmen, or fugitives. If the per- 
son calling himself the Black Knight have indeed a claim 
to the honors of chivalry, he ought to know that he stands 
degraded by his present association, and has no right to 
ask reckoning at the hands of good men of noble blood. 
Touching the prisoners we have made, we do in Chris- 
tian charity require you to send a man of religion to 


190 


IVANHOE 


receive their confession and reconcile them with God; 
since it is our fixed intention to execute them to-morrow 
morning before noon, so that their heads, being placed on 
the battlements, shall show to all men how lightly we 
esteem those who have bestirred themselves in their 
rescue. Wherefore, as above, we require you to seud 
a priest to reconcile them to God, in doing which you 
shall render them the last earthly service.’’ 

This letter, being folded, was delivered to the squire, 
and by him to the messenger who waited without, as the 
answer to that which he had brought. 

The yeoman returned to the headquarters of the allies, 
which were for the present established under a vener- 
able oak tree, about three arrow-flights distant from the 
castle. Here Wamba and Gurth, with their allies the 
Black Knight and Locksley, and the jovial hermit, 
awaited with impatience an answer to their summons. 
Around and at a distance from them were seen many 
a bold yeoman, whose silvan dress and weatherbeaten 
countenances showed the ordinary nature of their occu- 
pation. More than two hundred had already assembled, 
and others were fast coming in. Those whom they 
obeyed as leaders were distinguished from the others 
only by a feather in the cap, their dress, arms, and 
equipments being in all other respects the same. 

Besides these bands, a less orderly and worse-armed 
force, consisting of the Saxon inhabitants of the neigh- 
boring township, as well as many bondsmen and serv- 
ants from Cedric’s extensive estate, had already ar- 
rived. Pew of these were armed otherwise than with 
such rustic weapons as necessity sometimes converts to 
military purposes. Boar-spears, scythes, flails, and the 
like, were their chief arms. To the leaders of this 


A FORMAL LETTER OP DEFIANCE 


191 


motley army the letter of the Templar was now deliv- 
ered. 

Reference was at first made to the chaplain for an ex- 
position of its contents. 

By the crook of St. Dunstan,” said that worthy 
ecclesiastic, I cannot expound unto you this jargon, 
which, whether it be French or Arabic, is beyond my 
guess.’’ 

I must be clerk, then,” said the Black Knight; and, 
taking the letter from Locksley, he first read it over to 
himself, and then explained the meaning in Saxon. 

‘‘Execute the noble Cedric? ” exclaimed Wamba; “ by 
the rood, thou must be mistaken. Sir Knight.” 

“ Not I, my worthy friend,” replied the knight, “ I 
have explained the words as they are here set down. ’ ’ 

“ Then by St. Thomas of Canterbury,” replied Gurth, 
“ we will have the castle, should we tear it down with 
our hands ! ’ ’ 

“ ’Tis but a contrivance to gain time,” said Locksley; 
‘ ‘ they dare not do a deed for which I could exact a fear- 
ful penalty.” 

“ I would,” said the Black Knight, “ there were some 
one among us who could obtain admission into the castle, 
and discover how the case stands with the besieged. Me- 
thinks, as they require a confessor to be sent, this holy 
hermit might at once exercise his pious vocation, and pro- 
cure us the information we desire.” 

“ A plague on thee and thy advice! ” said the pious 
hermit; “ I tell thee. Sir Slothful Knight, that when I 
doff my friar’s frock, my priesthood, my sanctity, my 
very Latin, are put off along with it; and when in my 
green jerkin, I can better kill twenty deer than confess 
one Christian.” 

‘ ‘ I fear, ’ ’ said the Black Knight — ‘ ‘ I fear greatly 


192 


IVANHOE 


there is no one here that is qualified to take upon 
him, for the nonce, this same character of father con- 
fessor? ’’ 

All looked on each other, and were silent. 

‘‘ I see,’’ said Wamba, after a short pause, that the 
fool must be still the fool, and put his neck in the ven- 
ture which wise men shrink from. You must know, my 
dear cousins and countrymen, that I wore russet before 
I wore motley, and was bred to be a friar, until a brain- 
fever came upon me and left me just enough wit to be a 
fool. I trust, with the assistance of the good hermit’s 
frock, together with the priesthood, sanctity, and learn- 
ing which are stitched into the cowl of it, I shall be found 
qualified to administer both worldly and ghostly comfort 
to our worthy master Cedric and his companions in ad- 
versity.” 

‘‘ Hath he sense enough, thinkest thou? ” said the 
Black Knight, addressing Gurth. 

I know not,” said Gurth; but if he hath not, it 
will be the first time he hath wanted wit to turn his folly 
to account.” 

‘‘ On with the frock, then, good fellow,” quoth the 
Knight, and let thy master send us an account of 
their situation within the castle. Their numbers must 
be few, and it is five to one they may be accessible by a 
sudden and bold attack. Time wears — away with 
thee.” 

“ And, in the meantime,” said Locksley, ‘‘ we will be- 
set the place so closely that not so much as a fly shall 
carry news from thence. So that, my good friend,” he 
continued, addressing Wamba, thou mayst assure these 
tyrants that whatever violence they exercise on the per- 
sons of their prisoners shall be most severely repaid upon 
their own.” 


A FORMAL LETTER OP DEFIANCE 


193 


Peace be with you/’ said Wamba, who was now 
muffled in his religious disguise. 

And so saying, he imitated tha solemn and stately 
deportment of a friar, and departed to execute his 
mission. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


‘‘ PEACE BE WITH YOU 

When the Jester, arrayed in the cowl and frock of the 
hermit, and having his knotted cord twisted round his 
middle, stood before the portal of the castle of Pront- 
de-Boeuf, the warder demanded of him his name and 
errand. 

Peace be with you,’’ answered the Jester; ‘‘ I am a 
poor brother of the Order of St. Francis, who come 
hither to do my office to certain unhappy prisoners now 
secured within this castle. ’ ’ 

Thou art a bold friar,” said the warder, ‘‘ to come 
hither, where, saving our own drunken confessor, a cock 
of thy feather hath not crowed these twenty years. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Yet, I pray thee, do mine errand to the lord of the 
castle,” answered the pretended friar; trust me, it will 
find good acceptance with him, and the cock shall crow, 
that the whole castle shall hear him.” 

^ ‘ Thanks, ’ ’ said the warder ; ‘ ‘ but if I come to shame 
for leaving my post upon thine errand, I will try 
whether a friar’s gray gown be proof against a gray- 
goose shaft.” 

With this threat he left his turret, and carried to the 
hall of the castle his unwonted intelligence, that a holy 
friar stood before the gate and demanded instant admis- 
sion. With no small wonder he received his master’s 
commands to admit the holy man immediately. The 
hairbrained self-conceit which had emboldened Wamba 

194 


PEACE BE WITH YOU ’ 


195 


to undertake this dangerous office was scarce sufficient to 
support him when he found himself in the presence of 
Front-de-Boeuf, and he brought out his Peace be with 
you/’ to which he, in a good measure, trusted for sup- 
porting his character, with more anxiety and hesitation 
that had hitherto accompanied it. But Front-de-Boeuf 
was accustomed to see men of all ranks tremble in his 
presence, so that the timidity of the supposed father did 
not give him any cause of suspicion. Who and whence 
art thou, priest? ” said he. 

‘‘ Peace be with you,” reiterated the Jester; I am a 
poor servant of St. Francis, who, traveling through this 
wilderness, have fallen among thieves, as Scripture hath 
it, which thieves have sent me unto this castle in order 
to do my ghostly office on two persons condemned by 
your honorable justice.” 

Aye, right,” answered Front-de-Bceuf ; and canst 
thou tell me, holy father, the number of those banditti ? ’ ’ 
‘‘ Gallant sir,” answered the Jester, their name is 
legion.” 

Tell me in plain terms what numbers there are, or, 
priest, thy cloak and cord will ill protect thee. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Alas ! ” said the supposed friar, I was like to burst 
with fear ! but I conceive they may be, what of yeomen, 
what of commons, at least five hundred men. ’ ’ 

‘‘ What! ” said the Templar, muster the wasps 
so thick here? It is time to stifie such a mischievous 
brood.” Then, taking Front-de-Boeuf aside, Knowest 
thou the priest? ” 

‘‘He is a stranger from a distant convent,” said 
Front-de-Boeuf ; “ I know him not. ’ ’ 

“ Then trust him not with thy purpose in words,” 
answered the Templar. “ Let him carry a written order 
to De Bracy’s company of Free Companions, to repair 


196 


IVANHOE 


instantly to their master’s aid. In the meantime, and 
that the monk may suspect nothing, permit him to go 
freely about his task of preparing these Saxon hogs for 
the slaughter-house. ’ ’ 

It shall be so,” said Front-de-Boeuf. And he forth- 
with appointed a domestic to conduct Wamba to the 
apartment where Cedric and Athelstane were con- 
fined. 

Peace be with you,” said the Jester, entering the 
apartment ; ‘ ‘ the blessing of St. Dunstan, St. Denis, St. 
Duthoc, and all other saints whatsoever, be upon ye and 
about ye.” 

‘‘ Enter freely,” answered Cedric to the supposed 
friar; ‘‘ with what intent art thou come hither? ” 

‘‘ To bid you prepare yourselves for death,” answered 
the Jester. 

It is impossible ! ” replied Cedric, starting. Fear- 
less and wicked as they are, they dare not attempt such 
open and gratuitous cruelty ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ Alas! ” said the Jester, ‘‘ to restrain them by their 
sense of humanity is the same as to stop a runaway horse 
with a bridle of silk thread. Bethink thee, therefore, 
noble Cedric, and you also, gallant Athelstane, what 
crimes you have committed in the flesh; for to-morrow 
will ye be called to answer to a higher tribunal. ’ ’ 

Hearest thou this, Athelstane? ” said Cedric. We 
must rouse up our hearts to this last action, since better 
it is we should die like men than live like slaves.” 

I am ready,” answered Athelstane, to stand the 
worst of their malice, and shall walk to my death with 
as much composure as ever I did to my dinner. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Let us, then, unto our holy gear, father,” said 
Cedric. 

“ Wait yet a moment, good uncle,” said the Jester, in 


PEACE BE WITH YOU 


197 


his natural tone; better look long before you leap in 
the dark.’’ 

By my faith,” said Cedric, I should know that 
voice! ” 

It is that of your trusty slave and jester,” answered 
Wamba, throwing back his cowl. ‘‘ Had you taken a 
fool’s advice formerly, you would not have been here at 
all. Take a fool’s advice now, and you will not be here 
long. ’ ’ 

‘‘ How mean’s! thou, knave? ” answered the Saxon. 

Even thus,” replied Wamba; take thou this frock 
and cord, which are all the orders I ever had, and march 
quietly out of the castle, leaving me your cloak and 
girdle to take the long leap in thy stead.” 

Leave thee in my stead! ” said Cedric, astonished at 
the proposal; ‘‘ why, they would hang thee, my poor 
knave. ’ ’ 

‘‘ E’en let them do as they are permitted,” said 
Wamba. 

‘‘Well, Wamba,” answered Cedric, “ for one thing 
will I grant thy request. And that is, if thou wilt make 
the exchange of garments with Lord Athelstane instead 
of me.” 

“ Not so, father Cedric,” said Athelstane, grasping his 
hand — for, when roused to think or act, his deeds and 
sentiments were not unbecoming his high race — “ not 
so,” he continued; “ I would rather remain in this hall a 
week without food save the prisoner’s stinted loaf, or 
drink save the prisoner’s measure of water, than embrace 
the opportunity to escape which the slave’s untaught 
kindness has purveyed for his master. ’ ’ 

“ You are called wise men, sirs,” said the Jester, “ and 
I a crazed fool ; but, uncle Cedric and cousin Athelstane, 
the fool shall decide this controversy for ye, and save ye 
14 


198 


IVANHOE 


the trouble of straining courtesies any farther. I am like 
John-a-Duck’s mare, that will let no man mount her but 
John-a-Duck. I came to save my master, and if he will 
not consent, why, I can but go away home again. Kind 
service cannot be chucked from hand to hand like a 
shuttle-cock. Ill hang for no man but my own born 
master.’’ 

Go, then, noble Cedric,” said Athelstane, neglect 
not this opportunity. Tour presence without may en- 
courage friends to our rescue. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ And is there any prospect, then, of rescue from with- 
out? ” said Cedric, looking at the Jester. 

“ Prospect, indeed! ” echoed Wamba; ‘‘ let me tell 
you, when you fill my cloak, you are wrapped in a gen- 
eral’s cassock. Five hundred men are there without, and 
I was this morning one of their chief leaders. My fool ’s 
cap was a casque, and my bauble a truncheon. Well, 
we shall see what good they will make by exchanging a 
fool for a wise man. Truly, I fear they will lose in valor 
what they may gain in discretion. And so farewell, 
master, and be kind to poor Gurth and his dog Fangs; 
and let my cockscomb hang in the hall at Rotherwood, in 
memory that I flung away my life for my master, like a 
faithful — fool. ’ ’ The last word came out with a sort of 
double expression, betwixt jest and earnest. 

The tears stood in Cedric ’s eyes. ^ ‘ Thy memory shall 
be preserved, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ while fidelity and affection have 
honor upon earth! But that I trust I shall find the 
means of saving Rowena, and thee, Athelstane, and thee 
also, my poor Wamba, thou shouldst not overbear me in 
this matter. ’ ’ 

The exchange of dress was now accomplished, when a 
sudden doubt struck Cedric. 

‘ ‘ I know no language, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ but my own, and a 


PEACE BE WITH YOU 


199 


few words of their mincing Norman. How shall I bear 
myself like a reverend brother ? ’ ’ 

The spell lies in four words,” replied Wamba. 
‘ ‘ ‘ Peace be with you ’ will answer all inquiries. If you 
go or come, eat or drink, bless or ban, ‘ Peace be with 
you ^ carries you through it all. Speak it but thus, in a 
deep, grave tone — ‘ Peace be with you ^ — it is irresist- 
ible. Watch and ward, knight and squire, foot and 
horse, it acts as a charm upon them all.” 

‘‘ If such prove the case,” said his master, my re- 
ligious orders are soon taken — ^ Peace be with you. ’ I 
trust I shall remember the password. — Noble Athelstane, 
farewell ; and farewell, my poor boy, whose heart might 
make amends for a weaker head; I will save you, or 
return and die with you. The royal blood of our Saxon 
kings shall not be spilt while mine beats in my veins ; nor 
shall one hair fall from the head of the kind knave who 
risked himself for his master, if Cedric’s peril can 
prevent it. — Farewell. ’ ’ 

Farewell, noble Cedric,” said Athelstane; ‘‘ remem- 
ber, it is the true part of a friar to accept refreshment, 
if you are offered any.” 

‘‘ Farewell, uncle,” added Wamba; ‘‘ and remember 
^ Peace be with you.’ ” 

Thus exhorted, Cedric sallied forth upon his expedi- 
tion ; and it was not long ere he had occasion to try the 
force of that spell which his J ester had recommended as 
omnipotent. In a low-arched and dusky passage, by 
which he endeavored to work his way to the hall of the 
castle, he was interrupted by a female form. 

' ‘ Peace be with you ! ’ ’ said the pseudo friar, and was 
endeavoring to hurry past, when a soft voice replied. 

And with you, reverend father — ” 

‘‘ I am somewhat deaf,” replied Cedric, and at the 


200 


IVANHOE 


same time muttered to himself, ‘ ‘ A curse on the fool and 
his ‘ Peace be with you ’ ! I have lost my javelin at the 
first cast.’’ 

“ I pray you of dear love, reverend father,” replied 
the person who had addressed him, ‘‘ that you will 
deign to visit with your ghostly comfort a wounded pris- 
oner of this castle, and have such compassion upon him 
and us as thy holy office teaches. — Never shall good deed 
so highly advantage thy convent.” 

“ Daughter,” answered Cedric, much embarrassed, 
my time in this castle will not permit me to exercise 
the duties of mine office. I must presently forth — there 
is life and death upon my speed. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Yet, father, let me entreat you by the vow you have 
taken on you, ’ ’ replied the suppliant, ‘ ‘ not to leave the 
oppressed and endangered without counsel or succor.” 

‘‘ May the fiend fiy away with me, and leave me in 
Ifrin with the souls of Odin and Thor! ” answered 
Cedric, impatiently, and would probably have proceeded 
in the same tone of total departure from his spiritual 
character, when the colloquy was interrupted by the 
harsh voice of Ulrica, the old crone of the turret. 

How, minion? ” said she to the female speaker, ‘‘ is 
this the manner in which you requite the kindness which 
permitted thee to leave thy prison-cell yonder ? — Puttest 
thou the reverend man to use ungracious language to free 
himself from the importunities of a Jewess? ” 

“A Jewess!” said Cedric, availing himself of the 
information to get clear of their interruption. Let me 
pass, woman ! stop me not at your peril. I am fresh from 
my holy office, and would avoid pollution.” 

‘‘ Come this way, father,” said the old hag, thou art 
a stranger in this castle, and canst not leave it without a 
guide. Come thither, for I would speak with thee. — 


PEACE BE WITH YOU’’ 


201 


And you, daughter of an accursed race, go to the sick 
man chamber, and tend him until my return ; and woe 
betide you if you again quit it without my permission ! ’’ 
Rebecca retreated. Her importunities had prevailed 
upon Ulrica to suffer her to quit the turret, and Ulrica 
had employed her services where she herself would most 
gladly have paid them, by the bedside of the wounded 
Ivanhoe. With an understanding awake to their danger- 
ous situation, and prompt to avail herself of each means 
of safety which occurred, Rebecca had hoped something 
from the presence of a man of religion, who, she learned 
from Ulrica, had penetrated into this godless castle. She 
watched the return of the supposed ecclesiastic, with the 
purpose of addressing him and interesting him in favor 
of the prisoners ; with what imperfect success the reader 
has been just acquainted. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


TO THE battlements! ’’ 

Ulrica conducted the unwilling Cedric into a small 
apartment, the door of which she heedful ly secured, and 
said, in a tone rather asserting a fact than asking a 
question, Thou art Saxon, father. — Deny it not,^’ she 
continued, observing that Cedric hastened not to reply; 
‘‘ the sounds of my native language are sweet to mine 
ears, though seldom heard save from the tongues of the 
wretched and degraded serfs on whom the proud Nor- 
mans impose the meanest drudgery of this dwelling. 
Thou art a Saxon, father — a Saxon, and, save as thou 
art a servant of God, a freeman. 

I was not born,’’ she continued, the wretch that 
thou now seest me. I was free, was happy, was honored, 
loved, and was beloved. I am now a slave, miserable and 
degraded. Dost thou wonder, father, that I should hate 
mankind, and, above all, the race that has wrought this 
change in me? Can the wrinkled, decrepit hag before 
thee forget she was once the daughter of the noble thane 
of Torquilstone, before whose frown a thousand vassals 
trembled? ” 

‘‘ Thou the daughter of Torquil Wolf ganger! ” said 
Cedric, receding as he spoke ; ‘ ^ thou — thou — the 
daughter of that noble Saxon, my father’s friend and 
companion in arms ! ’ ’ 

^ ‘ Thy father ’s friend ! ’ ’ echoed Ulrica ; ‘ ‘ then Cedric 
called the Saxon stands before me, for the noble Here- 

202 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! 


203 


ward of Rotherwood had but one son, whose name is well 
known among his countrymen. — Even within these ac- 
cursed walls has the name of Cedric been sounded — and 
I, wretched and degraded, have rejoiced to think that 
there yet breathed an avenger of our unhappy nation. I 
also have had my hours of vengeance — I have fomented 
the quarrels of our foes, and heated drunken revelry into 
murderous broil — I have seen their blood flow — I have 
heard their dying groans ! Go thy way. No man shall 
aid me, but the ears of all men shall tingle to hear of the 
deed which I shall dare to do ; and thou thyself shalt say 
that, whatever was the life of Ulrica, her death well be- 
came the daughter of the noble Torquil. There is a 
force without beleaguering this accursed castle — hasten 
to lead them to the attack, and when thou shalt see a red 
flag wave from the turret on the eastern angle of the 
donjon, press the Normans hard — they will then have 
enough to do within.’’ 

Cedric would have inquired farther into the purpose 
which she thus darkly announced, but the stern voice of 
Pront-de-Boeuf was heard exclaiming, Where tarries 
this loitering priest ? ’ ’ 

Ulrica vanished through a private door, and Reginald 
Pront-de-Boeuf entered the apartment. Thy penitents, 
father, have made a long shrift — it is the better for 
them, since it is the last they shall ever make. Hast thou 
prepared them for death? ” 

I found them,” said Cedric, in such Prench as he 
could command, ^ ‘ expecting the worst, from the moment 
they knew into whose power they had fallen.” 

How now. Sir Priar,” replied Pront-de-Boeuf, thy 
speech, methinks, smacks of a Saxon tongue ? ’ ’ 

I was bred in the convent of St. Withold of Burton,” 
answered Cedric. 


204 


IVANHOE 


‘‘Aye? ’’ said the Baron; “ it had been better for thee 
to have been a Norman, and better for my purpose too ; 
but need has no choice of messengers. That St. 
Withold’s of Burton is a howlet’s nest worth the harry- 
ing. But do me one cast of thy holy office, and thou 
shalt sleep as safe in thy cell as a snail within his shell 
of proof. ’ ’ 

“ Speak your commands,’’ said Cedric, with sup- 
pressed emotion. 

“ Follow me through this passage, then, that I may 
dismiss thee by the postern. Thou seest. Sir Friar, yon 
herd of Saxon swine, who have dared to environ this 
castle of Torquilstone. — Tell them whatever thou hast a 
mind of the weakness of this fortalice, or aught else that 
can detain them before it for twenty-four hours. Mean- 
time bear thou this scroll to the castle of Philip de Mal- 
voisin; say it cometh from me, and is written by the 
Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and that I pray him to 
send it to York with all the speed man and horse can 
make. Meanwhile, tell him to doubt nothing he shall 
find us whole and sound behind our battlement. — Shame 
on it, that we should be compelled to hide thus by a pack 
of runagates, who are wont to fly even at the flash of our 
pennons and the tramp of our horses! I say to thee, 
priest, contrive some cast of thine art to keep the knaves 
where they are, until our friends bring up their lances.” 

Front-de-Boeuf, in the meanwhile, led the way to a 
postern, where, passing the moat on a single plank, they 
reached a small barbican, or exterior defense, which com- 
municated with the open field by a well-fortified sally- 
port. 

“ Begone, then; and if thou wilt do mine errand, and 
if thou return hither when it is done, thou shalt see 
Saxon flesh cheap as ever was hog’s in the shambles of 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! 


205 


Sheffield. Something in hand the whilst, ’ ’ continued the 
Norman; and, as they parted at the postern door, he 
thrust into Cedric’s reluctant hand a gold byzant, 
adding, ‘ ‘ Remember, I will flay off both cowl and skin if 
thou failest in thy purpose.” 

And full leave will I give thee to do both,” an- 
swered Cedric, leaving the postern, and striding forth 
over the free fleld with a joyful step, if, when we meet 
next, I deserve not better at thine hand. ’ ’ — Turning 
then back towards the castle, he threw the piece of gold 
towards the donor, exclaiming at the same time, ‘ ‘ False 
Norman, thy money perish with thee! ” 

Front-de-Boeuf heard the words imperfectly, but the 
action was suspicious. Archers,” he called to the 
warders on the outward battlements; ‘‘ send me an 
arrow through yon monk’s frock! — Yet stay,” he said, 
as his retainers were bending their bows, it avails not 
— we must thus far trust him since we have no better 
shift. I think he dares not betray me; at the worst I 
can but treat with these Saxon dogs whom I have safe 
in kennel. Ho! Giles jailer, let them bring Cedric of 
Rotherwood before me, and the other churl, his com- 
panion — him I mean of Coningsburgh — Athelstane 
there, or what call they him ? Their very names are an 
encumbrance to a Norman knight’s mouth, and have, as 
it were, a flavor of bacon. Give me a stoup of wine, as 
jolly Prince John said, that I may wash away the relish; 
place it in the armory, and thither lead the prisoners. ’ ’ 
His commands were obeyed; and upon entering that 
Gothic apartment, hung with many spoils won by his 
own valor and that of his father, he found a flagon of 
wine on the massive oaken table, and the two Saxon cap- 
tives under the guard of four of his dependants. Front- 
de-Boeuf took a long draught of wine, and then addressed 


206 


IVANHOE 


his prisoners; — for the manner in which Wamha drew 
the cap over his face, the change of dress, the gloomy and 
broken light, and the Baron’s imperfect acquaintance 
with the features of Cedric, who avoided his Norman 
neighbors, and seldom stirred beyond his own domains, 
prevented him from discovering that the most important 
of his captives had made his escape. 

Gallants of England,” said Front-de-Boeuf, how 
relish ye your entertainment at Torquilstone ? Have ye 
forgotten how ye requited the unmerited hospitality of 
the royal John? By St. Denis, an ye pay not the richer 
ransom, I will hang ye up by the feet from the iron 
bars of these windows, till the kites and hooded crows 
have made skeletons of you! Speak out, ye Saxon 
dogs — what bid ye for your worthless lives ? — How say 
you, you of Eotherwood? ” 

Not a doit I,” answered poor Wamba; and for 
hanging up by the feet, my brain has been topsy-turvy, 
they say, ever since the biggin was bound first round my 
head; so turning me upside down may peradventure 
restore it again.” 

St. Genevieve! ” said Pront-de-Boeuf, what have 
we got here? ” 

And with the back of his hand he struck Cedric’s cap 
from the head of the Jester, and, throwing open his 
collar, discovered the fatal badge of servitude, the silver 
collar round his neck. 

‘ ‘ Giles — Clement — dogs and varlets ! ’ ’ exclaimed 
the furious Norman, what have you brought me 
here? ” 

I think I can tell you,” said De Bracy, who just 
entered the apartment. This is Cedric’s clown, who 
fought so manful a skirmish with Isaac of York about a 
question of precedence.” 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! ” 


207 


I will settle it for them both/’ replied Front-de- 
Boeuf ; ‘ ‘ they shall hang on the same gallows, unless 
his master and this boar of Coningsburgh will pay well 
for their lives. Their wealth is the least they can sur- 
render; they must also carry off with them the swarms 
that are besetting the castle, subscribe a surrender of 
their pretended immunities, and live under us as serfs 
and vassals ; too happy if, in the new world that is about 
to begin, we leave them the breath of their nostrils. — • 
Go,” said he to two of his attendants, fetch me the 
right Cedric hither, and I pardon your error for once; 
the rather that you but mistook a fool for a Saxon 
franklin. ’ ’ 

Aye, but,” said Wamba, your chivalrous excel- 
lency will find there are more fools than franklins among 
us.” 

‘ ^ What means the knave ? ’ ’ said Front-de-Boeuf , look- 
ing towards his followers, who, lingering and loth, fal- 
tered forth their belief that, if this were not Cedric who 
was there in presence, they knew not what was become 
of him. 

Saints of Heaven! ” exclaimed De Bracy, he must 
have escaped in the monk’s garments 1 ” 

'' Fiends of hell! ” echoed Front-de-Boeuf, it was 
then the boar of Eotherwood whom I ushered to the pos- 
tern, and dismissed with my own hands! — And thou,” 
he said to Wamba, I will give thee holy orders — I 
will shave thy crown for thee ! — Here, let them tear the 
scalp from his head, and then pitch him headlong from 
the battlements — Thy trade is to jest, canst thou jest 
now? ” 

‘‘You deal with me better than your word, noble 
knight,” whimpered forth poor Wamba, whose habits 
of buffoonery were not overcome by the prospect of 


208 


IVANHOE 


death; if you give me the red cap you propose, out of 
a simple monk you will make a cardinal. ^ ’ 

‘‘ The poor wretch,’’ said De Bracy, ‘‘ is resolved to 
die in his vocation. — Front-de-Boeuf, you shall not slay 
him. Give him to me to make sport for my Free Com- 
panions. — How sayst thou, knave? Wilt thou take 
heart of grace, and go to the wars with me? ” 

‘‘ Aye, with my master’s leave,” said Wamba; “ for, 
look you, I must not slip collar without his permission.” 

Thou dost well, De Bracy,” said Front-de-Boeuf, 
‘‘ to stand there listening to a fool’s jargon, when de- 
struction is gaping for us ! Seest thou not we are over- 
reached, and that our proposed mode of communicating 
with our friends without has been disconcerted by this 
same motley gentleman thou art so fond to brother? 
What views have we to expect but instant storm ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ To the battlements then,” said De Bracy; “ when 
didst thou ever see me the graver for the thoughts of 
battle ? Call the Templar yonder, and let him fight but 
half so well for his life as he has done for his Order — 
Make thou to the walls thyself with thy huge body — Let 
me do my poor endeavor in my own way, and I tell thee 
the Saxon outlaws may as well attempt to scale the clouds 
as the castle of Torquilstone ; or, if you will treat with 
the banditti, why not employ the mediation of this 
worthy franklin, who seems in such deep contemplation 
of the wine-flagon ? — Here, Saxon, ’ ’ he continued, ad- 
dressing Athelstane, and handing the cup to him, ‘ ‘ rinse 
thy throat with that noble liquor, and rouse up thy soul 
to say what thou wilt do for thy liberty. ’ ’ 

What a man of mold may,” answered Athelstane, 
‘ ‘ providing it be what a man of manhood ought. — Dis- 
miss me free, with my companions, and I will pay a 
ransom of a thousand marks,” 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! 


209 


And wilt moreover assure us the retreat of that scum 
of mankind who are swarming around the castle, con- 
trary to God’s peace and the king’s? ” said Front-de- 
Boeuf. 

In so far as I can,” answered Athelstane, ‘‘ I will 
withdraw them; and I fear not but that my father 
Cedric will do his best to assist me. ’ ’ 

‘‘We are agreed, then,” said Front-de-Boeuf. “ But 
mark, this extends not to the Jew Isaac. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Neither does the ransom include the Lady Rowena, ’ ’ 
said De Bracy. “ It shall never be said I was scared 
out of a fair prize without striking a blow for it.” 

“ Neither,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “ does our treaty 
refer to this wretched Jester, whom I retain, that I may 
make him an example to every knave who turns jest into 
earnest.” 

“ The Lady Rowena,” answered Athelstane, with the 
most steady countenance, ‘ ‘ is my affianced bride. I will 
be drawn by wild horses before I consent to part with 
her. The slave Wamba has this day saved the life of 
my father Cedric. I will lose mine, ere a hair of his head 
be injured.” 

“ Thy affianced bride! — The Lady Rowena the affi- 
anced bride of a vassal like thee! ” said De Bracy. 
“ Saxon, thou dreamest that the days of thy seven king- 
doms are returned again. I tell thee, the princes of the 
house of Anjou confer not their wards on men of such 
lineage as thine.” 

“ My lineage, proud Norman,” replied Athelstane, 
“ is drawn from a source more pure and ancient than 
that of a beggarly Frenchman, whose living is won by 
selling the blood of the thieves whom he assembles under 
his paltry standard. Kings were my ancestors, strong in 
war, and wise in council, who every day feasted in their 


210 


IVANHOE 


hall more hundreds than thou canst number individual 
followers; whose names have been sung by minstrels, 
and their laws recorded by Witenagemotes ; whose bones 
were interred amid the prayers of saints, and over whose 
tombs minsters have been builded. ’ ’ 

Thou hast it, De Bracy,’’ said Front-de-Boeuf, well 
pleased with the rebuff which his companion had re- 
ceived ; ‘ ‘ the Saxon hath hit thee fairly. ’ ’ 

As fairly as a captive can strike,’’ said De Bracy, 
with apparent carelessness; “ for he whose hands are 
tied should have his tongue at freedom. — But thy glib- 
ness of reply, comrade,” rejoined he, speaking to Athel- 
stane, ‘ ‘ will not win the freedom of the Lady Rowena. ’ ’ 

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a 
menial, who announced that a monk demanded ad- 
mittance at the postern gate. 

‘ ‘ In the name of St. Bennet, the prince of these bull- 
beggars,” said Front-de-Boeuf, have we a real monk 
this time, or another impostor? Search him, slaves.” 

Let me endure the extremity of your anger, my 
lord,” said Giles, if this be not a real shaveling. 
Your squire Jocelyn knows him well, and will vouch him 
to be Brother Ambrose, a monk in attendance upon the 
Prior of Jorvaulx.” 

‘‘ Admit him,” said Front-de-Boeuf; most likely he 
brings us news from his jovial master. Surely the devil 
keeps holiday, and the priests are relieved from duty, 
that they are strolling thus wildly through the country. 
Remove these prisoners ; and, Saxon, think on what thou 
hast heard.” 

The Saxon prisoners were accordingly removed, just 
as they introduced the monk Ambrose, who appeared to 
be in great perturbation. 

‘ ‘ Holy Mother ! ’ ’ said the monk, as he addressed the 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! 


211 


assembled knights, I am at last safe and in Christian 
keeping! ’’ 

Safe thou art,’^ replied De Bracy, and for Chris- 
tianity, here is the stout Baron Keginald Front-de-Boeuf, 
whose utter abomination is a Jew; and the good Knight 
Templar, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose trade is to slay 
Saracens — If these are not good marks of Christianity, 
I know no other which they bear about them.’’ 

“ Ye are friends and allies of our reverend father in 
God, Aymer, Prior of Jorvaulx,” said the monk, with- 
out noticing the tone of De Bracy ’s reply; ye owe him 
aid both by knightly faith and holy charity; for what 
saith the blessed St. Augustin, in his treatise — ” 

What saith the devil ! ” interrupted Front-de-Bceuf ; 
or rather what dost ihou say, Sir Priest? We have 
little time to hear texts from the holy fathers.” 

Blessed Mary! ” ejaculated Father Ambrose, how 
prompt to ire are these unhallowed" laymen ! But be it 
known to you, brave knights, that, violent hands having 
been imposed on my reverend superior, and the men of 
Belial having rifled his mails and budgets, and stripped 
him of two hundred marks of pure, refined gold, they do 
yet demand of him a large sum beside, ere they will 
suffer him to depart from their uncircumcised hands. 
Wherefore the reverend father in God prays you, as his 
dear friends, to rescue him, either by paying down the 
ransom at which they hold him, or by force of arms, at 
your best discretion.” 

The foul fiend quell the Prior! ” said Front-de- 
Boeuf; ‘‘his morning’s draught has been a deep one. 
When did thy master hear of a Norman baron unbuc- 
kling his purse to relieve a churchman, whose bags are 
ten times as weighty as ours ? — And how can we do 
aught by valor to free him, that are cooped up here by 


212 


IVANHOE 


ten times our number, and expect an assault every 
moment? ’’ 

And that was what I was about to tell you,’’ said 
the monk, had your hastiness allowed me time. But, 
God help me, I am old, and these foul onslaughts dis- 
tract an aged man’s brain. Nevertheless, it is of verity 
that they assemble a camp, and raise a bank against the 
walls of this castle.” 

To the battlements,” cried De Bracy, ‘‘ and let us 
mark what these knaves do without ; ’ ’ and so saying, he 
opened a latticed window which led to a sort of pro- 
jecting balcony, and immediately called from thence to 
those in the apartment. — St. Denis, but the old monk 
hath brought true tidings ! — They bring forward huge 
shields made of planks, and the archers muster on the 
skirts of the wood like a dark cloud before a hailstorm. ’ ’ 
Keginald Front-de-Boeuf also looked out upon the field, 
and immediately snatched his bugle ; and, after winding 
a long and loud blast, he commanded his men to their 
posts on the walls. 

De Bracy, look to the eastern side, where the walls 
are lowest — Noble Bois-Guilbert, thy trade hath well 
taught thee how to attack and defend, look thou to the 
western side — I myself will take post at the barbican. 
Yet, do not confine your exertions to any one spot, noble 
friends! — We must this day be everywhere, and mul- 
tiply ourselves, were it possible, so as to carry by our 
presence succor and relief wherever the attack is hot- 
test.” 

But, noble knights,” exclaimed Father Ambrose, 
‘ ^ will none of ye hear the message of the reverend father 
in God, Aymer, Prior of J orvaulx ? — I beseech thee to 
hear me, noble Sir Keginald! ” 

Go patter thy petitions to Heaven,” said the fierce 


TO THE BATTLEMENTS! 


213 


Norman, for we on earth have no time to listen to 
them. — Ho ! there, Anselm ! see that seething pitch and 
oil are ready to pour on the heads of these audacious 
traitors — Look that the cross-bowmen lack not bolts — 
Fling abroad my banner with the old bull’s head — the 
knaves shall soon find with whom they have to do this 
day! ” 

The Templar had in the meantime been looking out 
on the proceedings of the besiegers with rather more 
attention than the brutal Front-de-Boeuf or his giddy 
companion. 

‘‘ By the faith of mine Order,” he said, these men 
approach with more touch of discipline than could have 
been judged, however they come by it. See ye how dex- 
terously they avail themselves of every cover which a 
tree or bush affords, and shun exposing themselves to the 
shot of our cross-bows? I spy neither banner nor pen- 
non among them, and yet will I gauge my golden chain 
that they are led on by some noble knight or gentleman, 
skillful in the practice of wars.” 

I espy him,” said De Bracy; ‘‘ I see the waving of 
a knight’s crest, and the gleam of his armor. See yon 
tall man in black mail, who is busied marshaling the 
farther troop of the rascal yeomen — by St. Denis, I 
hold him to be the same whom we called the Black Slug- 
gard, who overthrew thee, Front-de-Bceuf, in the lists at 
Ashby.” 

“ So much the better,” said Front-de-Boeuf, that he 
comes here to give me my revenge. Some paltry fellow 
he must be, who dared not stay to assert his claim to the 
tourney prize which chance had assigned him. I should 
in vain have sought for him where knights and nobles 
seek their foes, and right glad am I he hath here shown 
himself among yon villain yeomanry.” 

15 


214 


IVANHOE 


The demonstrations of the enemy’s immediate ap- 
proach cut off all farther discourse. Each knight re- 
paired to his post, and at the head of the few followers 
whom they were able to muster, and who were in num- 
bers inadequate to defend the whole extent of the walls, 
they awaited with calm determination the threatened 
assault. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 

V/hen Ivanhoe sunk down, and seemed abandoned by 
all the world, it was the importunity of Rebecca which 
prevailed on her father to have the gallant young war- 
rior transported from the lists to the house which, for 
the time, the Jews inhabited in the suburbs of Ashby. 

Rebecca proceeded with her own hands to examine and 
to bind up his wounds. Her knowledge of medicine 
and of the healing art had been acquired under an aged 
Jewess, the daughter of one of their most celebrated doc- 
tors, who loved Rebecca as her own child, and was 
believed to have communicated to her secrets which had 
been left to herself by her sage father. In the morning 
Ivanhoe ’s kind physician found him entirely free from 
feverish symptoms, and fit to undergo the fatigue of a 
journey. 

He was deposited in the horse-litter which had brought 
him from the lists, and every precaution was taken for 
his traveling with ease. The Jew, his daughter, and 
her wounded patient, were found by Cedric, as has al- 
ready been noticed, and soon afterwards fell into the 
power of De Bracy; who commanded two of his own 
squires to keep close by the litter, and to suffer no one 
to approach it. On arriving at Torquilstone, De Bracy ’s 
squires conveyed Ivanhoe, under the name of a wounded 
comrade, to a distant apartment. This explanation was 
accordingly returned by these men to Pront-de-Boeuf, 
215 


216 


IVANHOE 


when he questioned them why they did not make for 
the battlements upon the alarm. 

“ A wounded companion! ’’ he replied in great wrath 
and astonishment. ‘‘ No wonder that churls and yeo- 
men wax so presumptuous as even to lay leaguer before 
castles, and that clowns and swineherds send defiances 
to nobles, since men-at-arms have turned sick men’s 
nurses, and Free Companions are grown keepers of dy- 
ing folks’ curtains, when the castle is about to be as- 
sailed. — To the battlements, ye loitering villains ! ” he 
exclaimed, raising his stentorian voice till the arches 
around rung again — ‘ ‘ to the battlements, or I will 
splinter your bones with this truncheon ! ’ ’ 

The men sulkily replied that they desired nothing 
better than to go to the battlements, providing Front-de- 
Boeuf would bear them out with their master, who had 
commanded them to tend the dying man. 

“ The dying man, knaves! ” rejoined the Baron; I 
promise thee we shall all be dying men, an we stand 
not to it the more stoutly. But I will relieve the guard 
upon this caitiff companion of yours. — Here, Ulrica — 
hag — fiend of a Saxon witch — hearest me not? Tend 
me this bedridden fellow, since he must needs be tended, 
while these knaves use their weapons. — Here be two 
cross-bows, comrades, with windlaces and bolts — to the 
barbican with you, and see you drive each bolt through 
a Saxon brain.” 

The men, who, like most of their description, were 
fond of enterprise, and detested inaction, went joyfully 
to the scene of danger as they were commanded, and 
thus the charge of Ivanhoe was transferred to Ulrica. 
But she, whose brain was burning with remembrance of 
injuries and with hopes of vengeance, was readily in- 
duced to devolve upon Rebecca the care of her patient. 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 


217 


In finding herself once more by the side of Ivanhoe, 
Rebecca was astonished at the keen sensation of pleasure 
which she experienced, even at a time when all around 
them both was danger, if not despair. As she felt his 
pulse, and inquired after his health, there was a soft- 
ness in her touch and in her accents, implying a kinder 
interest than she would herself have been pleased to 
have voluntarily expressed. Ivanhoe answered her 
hastily that he was, in point of health, as well, and bet- 
ter, than he could have expected — Thanks,” he said, 

dear Rebecca, to thy helpful skill. My mind, gentle 
maiden,” continued Ivanhoe, is more disturbed by 
anxiety than my body with pain. From the speeches of 
these men who were my warders just now, I learn that 
I am a prisoner, and, if I judge aright of the loud, 
hoarse voice which even now dispatched them hence on 
some military duty, I am in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf. 
If so, how will this end, or how can I protect Rowena 
and my father? ” 

Rebecca hastened to give Ivanhoe what information 
she could; but it amounted only to this, that the Tem- 
plar Bois-Guilbert and the Baron Front-de-Boeuf were 
commanders within the castle; that it was beleaguered 
from without, but by whom she knew not. She added, 
that there was a Christian priest within the castle who 
might be possessed of more information. 

A Christian priest! ” said the knight joyfully; 
‘ ‘ fetch him hither, Rebecca, if thou canst — say a sick 
man desires his ghostly counsel — say what thou wilt, 
but bring him.” 

Rebecca, in compliance with the wishes of Ivanhoe, 
made that attempt to bring Cedric into the wounded 
knight’s chamber which was defeated, as we have al- 
ready seen, by the interference of Ulrica, who had been 


218 


IVANHOE 


also on the watch to intercept the supposed monk. Ee- 
becca retired to communicate to Ivanhoe the result of 
her errand. 

They had not much leisure to regret the failure of this 
source of intelligence; for the noise within the castle, 
occasioned by the defensive preparations, now increased 
into tenfold bustle and clamor. The heavy step of the 
men-at-arms traversed the battlements, or resounded on 
the narrow and winding passages and stairs which led 
to the various balconies and points of defense. The 
voices of the knights were heard, animating their follow- 
ers, or directing means of defense, while their commands 
were often drowned in the clashing of armor, or the 
clamorous shouts of those whom they addressed. Kebec- 
ca’s eye kindled, although the blood fled from her cheeks ; 
and there was a strong mixture of fear and of a thrill- 
ing sense of the sublime as she repeated, half- whispering 
to herself, half-speaking to her companion, the sacred 
text — The quiver rattleth — the glittering spear and 
the shield — the noise of the captains and the shouting ! ’ ’ 

But Ivanhoe was like the war-horse of that sublime 
passage, glowing with impatience at his inactivity, and 
with his ardent desire to mingle in the affray of which 
these sounds were the introduction. ‘‘ If I could but 
drag myself, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ to yonder window, that I might 
see how this brave game is like to go — If I had but bow 
to shoot a shaft, or battle-ax to strike were it but a single 
blow for our deliverance ! It is in vain — it is in vain — 
I am alike nerveless and weaponless ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ Fret not thyself, noble knight,” answered Kebecca, 
‘‘ the sounds have ceased of a sudden — it may be they 
join not battle.” 

‘‘ Thou knowest nought of it,” said Wilfred, impa- 
tiently ; ‘ ‘ this dead pause only shows that the men are at 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 


219 


their posts on the walls, and expecting an instant attack ; 
what we have heard was but the distant muttering of the 
storm — it will burst anon in all its fury. Could I but 
reach yonder window! ’’ 

‘‘ Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble 
knight,’’ replied his attendant. Observing his extreme 
solicitude, she firmly added, I myself will stand at the 
lattice, and describe to you as I can what passes with- 
out.” 

You must not — you shall not 1 ” exclaimed Ivanhoe. 
Each lattice, each aperture, will be soon a mark for 
the archers; some random shaft — ” 

It shall be welcome! ” murmured Rebecca, as with 
firm pace she ascended two or three steps, which led to 
the window of which they spoke. 

‘ ^ Rebecca — dear Rebecca ! ’ ’ exclaimed Ivanhoe, 
this is no maiden’s pastime — do not expose thyself 
to wounds and death, and render me forever miserable 
for having given the occasion; at least, cover thyself 
with yonder ancient buckler, and show as little of your 
person at the lattice as may be.” 

Following with wonderful promptitude the directions 
of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the 
large, ancient shield, which she placed against the lower 
part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to 
herself, could witness part of what was passing without 
the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which 
the assailants were making for the storm. Indeed, the 
situation which she thus obtained was peculiarly favor- 
able for this purpose, because, being placed on an angle 
of the main building, Rebecca could not only see what 
passed beyond the precincts of the castle, but also com- 
manded a view of the outwork likely to be the first object 
of the meditated assault. It was an exterior fortification 


220 


IVANHOE 


of no great height or strength, intended to protect the 
postern-gate, through which Cedric had been recently 
dismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided 
this species of barbican from the rest of the fortress, so 
that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to cut off the 
communication with the main building, by withdrawing 
the temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sallyport 
corresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole 
was surrounded by a strong palisade. Rebecca could 
observe, from the number of men placed for the defense 
of this post, that the besieged entertained apprehensions 
for its safety; and from the mustering of the assailants 
in a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, it seemed 
no less plain that it had been selected as a vulnerable 
point of attack. 

These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivan- 
hoe, and added, “ The skirts of the woods seem lined 
with archers, although only a few are advanced from its 
dark shadow.’’ 

Under what banner? ” asked Ivanhoe. 

‘‘ Under no ensign of war which I can observe,” an- 
swered Rebecca. 

‘‘ A singular novelty,” muttered the knight, ‘‘ to ad- 
vance to storm such a castle without pennon or ban- 
ner displayed ! — Seest thou who they be that act as 
leaders? ” 

‘‘ A knight, clad in sable armor, is the most conspicu- 
ous,” said the Jewess; ‘‘ he alone is armed from head to 
heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around 
him.” 

‘ ‘ What device does he bear on his shield ? ’ ’ replied 
Ivanhoe. 

Something resembling a bar of iron and a padlock 
painted blue on the black shield.” 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 


221 


** A fetterlock and shackle-bolt azure/’ said Ivanhoe; 
‘‘ I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween 
it might now be my own. Canst thou not see the 
motto? ” 

Scarce the device itself at this distance,” replied 
Eebecca ; ^ ‘ but when the sun glances fair upon his shield 
it shows as I tell you.” 

“ Seem there no other leaders? ” exclaimed the anx- 
ious inquirer. 

‘ ‘ None of mark and distinction that I can behold from 
this station, ’ ^ said Eebecca ; ‘ ‘ but doubtless the other 
side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even 
now preparing to advance — God of Zion protect us ! — 
What a dreadful sight ! — Those who advance first bear 
huge shields and defenses made of plank; the others 
follow, bending their bows as they come on. — They 
raise their bows ! — God of Moses, forgive the creatures 
Thou hast made ! ’ ’ 

Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the 
signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a 
shrill bugle, and at once answered by a fiourish of the 
Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled 
with the deep and hollow clang of the nakers (a species 
of kettle-drum), retorted in notes of defiance the chal- 
lenge of the enemy. The shouts of both parties aug- 
mented the fearful din, the assailants crying, St. 
George for Merry England! ” and the Normans answer- 
ing them with loud cries of ‘ ‘ Forward, De Bracy I ’ ’ — 
‘‘ Beau-seant! Beau-seant! ” — Front-de-Boeuf to the 
rescue! ” according to the war-cries of their different 
commanders. 

It was not, however, by clamor that the contest was 
to be decided, and the desperate efforts of the assailants 
were met by an equally vigorous defense on the part of 


222 


IVANHOE 


the besieged. The archers, trained by their woodland 
pastimes to the most effective use of the long-bow, shot, 
to use the appropriate phrase of the time, so wholly 
together, ’ ’ that no point at which a defender could show 
the least part of his person escaped their cloth-yard 
shafts. 

By this heavy discharge, which continued as thick 
and sharp as hail, while, notwithstanding, every 
arrow had its individual aim, and flew by scores together 
against each embrasure and opening in the parapets, as 
well as at every window where a defender either occa- 
sionally had post, or might be suspected to be stationed 
— by this sustained discharge, two or three of the garri- 
son were slain and several others wounded. But, confi- 
dent in their armor of proof, and in the cover which 
their situation afforded, the followers of Front-de-Boeuf 
and his allies showed an obstinacy in defense propor- 
tioned to the fury of the attack, and replied with the 
discharge of their large cross-bows, as well as with flieir 
long-bows, slings, and other missile weapons, to the close 
and continued shower of arrows; and, as the assailants 
were necessarily but indifferently protected, did consid- 
erably more damage than they received at their hand. 
The whizzing of shafts and of missiles on both sides was 
interrupted only by the shouts which arose when either 
side inflicted or sustained some notable loss. 

‘‘ And I must lie here like a bedridden monk,’’ ex- 
claimed Ivanhoe, ‘‘ while the game that gives me free- 
dom or death is played out by the hand of others ! — 
Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but be- 
ware that you are not marked by the archers beneath — 
Look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to 
the storm.” 

With patient courage, strengthened by the interval 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 


223 


which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca 
again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, how- 
ever, so as not to be visible from beneath. 

What dost thou see, Rebecca? ’’ again demanded 
the wounded knight. 

‘‘ Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as 
to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot 
them.’’ 

‘ ‘ That cannot endure, ’ ’ said Ivanhoe ; “ if they press 
not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, 
the archery may avail but little against stone walls and 
bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair 
Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the 
leader is, so will his followers be.” 

“ I see him not,” said Rebecca. 

“ Foul craven! ” exclaimed Ivanhoe; “ does he blench 
from the helm when the wind blows highest? ” 

‘ ‘ He blenches not ! — he blenches not I ’ ’ said Rebecca, 
“I s^e him now; he leads a body of men close under 
the outer barrier of the barbican. — They pull down the 
piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with 
axes. — His high black plume floats abroad over the 
throng, like a raven over the fleld of the slain. — They 
have made a breach in the barriers — they rush in — 
they are thrust back 1 — Front-de-Boeuf heads the de- 
fenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They 
throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed 
hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob 1 it is the 
meeting of two flerce tides — the conflict of two oceans 
moved by adverse winds! ” 

She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable 
longer to endure a sight so terrible. 

“ Look forth again, Rebecca,” said Ivanhoe, mistak- 
ing the cause of her retiring ; ‘ ‘ the archery must in some 


224 


IVANHOE 


degree have ceased, since they are now fighting hand 
to hand. — Look again, there is now less danger.” 

Kebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately 
exclaimed, ^ ‘ Holy prophets of the law ! Pront-de-Boeuf 
and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, 
amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress 
of the strife. — Heaven strike with the cause of the op- 
pressed and of the captive! ” She then uttered a loud 
shriek and exclaimed, ‘‘ He is down! — he is down! ” 
Who is down?” cried Ivanhoe; for our dear 
Lady’s sake, tell me which has fallen? ” 

The Black Knight,” answered Kebecca, faintly; 
then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness: 
‘ ‘ But no — but no ! the name of the Lord of Hosts be 
blessed ; he is on foot again, and fights as if there were 
twenty men’s strength in his single arm. — His sword is 
broken — he snatches an ax from a yeoman — he presses 
Front-de-Boeuf with blow on blow — The giant stoops 
and totters like an oak under the steel of the woodman 
— he falls — he falls! ” 

Front-de-Boeuf? ” exclaimed Ivanhoe. 
Front-de-Boeuf,” answered the Jewess. His men 
rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar — 
their united force compels the champion to pause. — 
They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls.” 

The assailants have won the barriers, have they 
not ? ’ ’ said Ivanhoe. 

‘ ‘ They have — they have ! ’ ’ exclaimed Rebecca ; ‘ ‘ and 
they press the besieged hard upon the outer wall ; some 
plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavor to 
ascend upon the shoulders of each other — down go 
stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and 
as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men 
supply their places in the assault. Great God! hast 


THE FIRST ASSAULT 


225 


Thou given men Thine own image that it should be thus 
cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren! ” 

Think not of that/’ said Ivanhoe; this is no time 
for such thoughts — Who yield ? — who push their 
way? ” 

‘‘ The ladders are thrown down/’ replied Rebecca, 
shuddering ; ‘ ^ the soldiers lie groveling under them 
like crushed reptiles. — The besieged have the better. ’ ’ 
‘‘ St George strike for us! ” exclaimed the knight; 
do the false yeomen give way? ” 

‘ ‘ No ! ” exclaimed Rebecca, ‘ ‘ they bear themselves 
right yeomanly. The Black Knight approaches the 
postern with his huge ax — the thundering blows which 
he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts 
of the battle — Stones and beams are hailed down on 
the bold champion — he regards them no more than if 
they were thistle-down or feathers! ” 

‘‘ By St. John of Acre,” said Ivanhoe, raising himself 
joyfully on his couch, ‘‘ methought there was but one 
man in England that might do such a deed ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ The postern gate shakes,” continued Rebecca — it 
crashes — it is splintered by his blows — they rush in 
— the outwork is won. 0 God ! they hurl the defenders 
from the battlements — they throw them into the moat. 
0 men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist 
no longer! ” 

‘ ‘ The bridge which communicates with the castle — 
have they won that pass? ” exclaimed Ivanhoe. 

‘‘ No,” replied Rebecca; the Templar has destroyed 
the plank on which they crossed — few of the defenders 
escaped with him into the castle — the shrieks and cries 
which you hear tell the fate of the others. Alas ! I see 
it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon 
battle. ’ ’ 


226 


IVANHOE 


‘ ‘ What do they now, maiden ? ’ ’ said Ivanhoe ; ^ ‘ look 
forth yet again — this is no time to faint at bloodshed. ’ ’ 
It is over for the time,’^ answered Rebecca; ‘‘ our 
friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which 
they have mastered, and it affords them so good a shel- 
ter from the foemen’s shot that the garrison only bestow 
a few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather 
to disquiet than effectually to injure them.” 

‘‘ Our friends,” said Wilfred, will surely not aban- 
don an enterprise so gloriously begun and so happily at- 
tained. — Oh, no ! I will put my faith in the good knight 
whose ax hath rent heart-of-oak and bars of iron. — 
Singular,” he again muttered to himself, if there be 
two who can do a deed of such derring-do! A fetter- 
lock and a shackle-bolt on a field sable — what may that 
mean? Seest thou nought else, Rebecca, by which the 
Black Knight may be distinguished? ” 

‘ ‘ Nothing, ’ ’ said the J ewess : ‘ ‘ all about him is black 
as the wing of the night raven. Nothing can I spy that 
can mark him further; but having once seen him put 
forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know 
him again among a thousand warriors. He rushes to 
the fray as if he were summoned to a banquet. There 
is more than mere strength — there seems as if the whole 
soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow 
which he deals upon his enemies. God assoilzie him of 
the sin of bloodshed ! — it is fearful, yet magnificent, to 
behold how the arm and heart of one man can triumph 
over hundreds.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 

During the interval of quiet which followed the first 
success of the besiegers, while the one party was prepar- 
ing to pursue their advantage and the other to strengthen 
their means of defense, the Templar and De Bracy held 
brief counsel together in the hall of the castle. 

“ Where is Front-de-Boeuf ? ’’ said the latter, who had 
superintended the defense of the fortress on the other 
side; men say he hath been slain. 

‘‘ He lives,’’ said the Templar coolly — lives as yet; 
but had he worn the bull’s head of which he bears the 
name, and ten plates of iron to fence it withal, he must 
have gone down before yonder fatal ax. Yet a few 
hours, and Pront-de-Boeuf is with his fathers — a pow- 
erful limb lopped off Prince John’s enterprise. How 
fought these villain yeomen on thy side? ” 

Like fiends incarnate,” said De Bracy. They 
swarmed close up to the walls, headed, as I think, by 
the knave who won the prize at the archery. Had I not 
been armed in proof, the villain had marked me down 
seven times. He told every rivet on my armor with a 
cloth-yard shaft, that rapped against my ribs with as 
little compunction as if my bones had been of iron — 
but that I wore a shirt of Spanish mail under my 
plate-coat, I had been fairly sped.” 

“ But you maintained your post? ” said the Tem- 
plar. We lost the outwork on our part.” 

227 


228 


IVANHOE 


“ That is a shrewd loss,” said De Bracy; “ the knaves 
will find cover there to assault the castle more closely, 
and may, if not well watched, gain some unguarded cor- 
ner of a tower, or some forgotten window, and so break 
in upon us. Our numbers are too few for the defense of 
every point, and the men complain that they can no- 
w^here show themselves, but they are the mark for as 
many arrows as a parish-butt on a holyday even. How 
think you. Sir Brian, were we not better make a virtue 
of necessity, and compound with the rogues by deliver- 
ing up our prisoners? ” 

How? ” exclaimed the Templar; ‘‘ deliver up our 
prisoners, and stand an object alike of ridicule and exe- 
cration, as the doughty warriors who dared by a night- 
attack to possess themselves of the persons of a party of 
defenseless travelers, yet could not make good a strong 
castle against a vagabond troop of outlaws, led by swine- 
herds, jesters, and the very refuse of mankind? — Shame 
on thy counsel, Maurice de Bracy ! — The ruins of this 
castle shall bury both my body and my shame, ere I con- 
sent to such base and dishonorable composition.” 

‘ ‘ Let us to the walls, then, ’ ^ said De Bracy, carelessly ; 
‘ ‘ that man never breathed, be he Turk or Templar, who 
held life at a lighter rate than I do. But I trust there is 
no dishonor in wishing I had here some two scores of 
my gallant troop of Free Companions ! — Oh, my brave 
lances ! if ye but knew how hard your captain were this 
day bested, how soon should I see my banner at the 
head of your clump of spears! And how short while 
would these rabble villains stand to endure your en- 
counter! ” 

“ Wish for whom thou wilt,” said the Templar, ‘‘ but 
let us make what defense we can with the soldiers who 
remain. They are chiefiy Front-de-Bceuf 's followers. 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


229 


hated by the English for a thousand acts of insolence 
and oppression.’’ 

‘ ‘ The better, ’ ’ said De Bracy ; ^ ‘ the rugged slaves will 
defend themselves to the last drop of their blood, ere 
they encounter the revenge of the peasants without. Let 
us up and be doing, then, Brian de Bois-Guilbert ; and, 
live or die, thou shalt see Maurice de Bracy bear him- 
self this day as a gentleman of blood and lineage.” 

‘‘ To the walls! ” answered the Templar; and they 
both ascended the battlements to do all that skill could 
dictate and manhood accomplish, in defense of the 
place. They readily agreed that the point of greatest 
danger was that opposite to the outwork of which the 
assailants had possessed themselves. The castle, indeed, 
was divided from that barbican by the moat, and it was 
impossible that the besiegers could assail the postern 
door, with which the outwork corresponded, without sur- 
mounting that obstacle; but it was the opinion both of 
the Templar and De Bracy that the besiegers would 
endeavor, by a formidable assault, to draw the chief 
part of the defenders’ observation to this point, and 
take measures to avail themselves of every negligence 
which might take place in the defense elsewhere. To 
guard against such an evil, their numbers only per- 
mitted the knights to place sentinels from space to space 
along the walls in communication with each other, who 
might give the alarm whenever danger was threatened. 
Meanwhile, they agreed that De Bracy should command 
the defense of the postern, and the Templar should keep 
with him a score of men or thereabouts as a body of re- 
serve, ready to hasten to any other point which might be 
suddenly threatened. The loss of the barbican had also 
this unfortunate effect, that, notwithstanding the supe- 
rior height of the castle walls, the besieged could not see 
16 


230 


IVANHOE 


from them, with the same precision as before, the opera- 
tions of the enemy; for some straggling underwood ap- 
proached so near the sallyport of the outworks that the 
assailants might introduce into it whatever force they 
thought proper, not only under cover, but even without 
the knowledge of the defenders. Utterly uncertain, 
therefore, upon what point the storm was to burst, De 
Bracy and his companion were under the necessity of 
providing against every possible contingency, and their 
followers, however brave, experienced the anxious de- 
jection of mind incident to men enclosed by enemies, 
who possessed the power of choosing their time and 
mode of attack. 

Meanwhile, the lord of the beleaguered and endan- 
gered castle lay upon a bed of bodily pain and mental 
agony. He had not the usual resource of bigots in that 
superstitious period, most of whom were wont to atone 
for the crimes they were guilty of, by liberality to the 
Church, stupefying by this means their terrors by the 
idea of atonement and forgiveness. 

‘ ‘ Where be these dog-priests now, ’ ^ growled the baron, 
‘‘who set such price on their ghostly mummery? — 
where be all those unshod Carmelites, for whom old 
Front-de-Boeuf founded the convent of St. Anne, rob- 
bing his heir of many a fair rood of meadow, and many 
a fat field and close. Tell the Templar to come hither; 
he is a priest, and may do something — But no! as 
well confess myself to the devil as to Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert, who recks neither of Heaven nor of Hell. — 
I have heard old men talk of prayer — prayer by their 
own voice — such need not to court or to bribe the false 
priest. But I — I dare not ! ’ ’ 

“ Lives Reginald Front-de-Bceuf , ’ ’ said a broken and 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


231 


shrill voice close by his bedside, to say there is that 
which he dares not? Listen to these horrid sounds,’’ 
for the din of the recommenced assault now rung fear- 
fully loud from the battlements of the castle; in that 
war-cry is the downfall of thy house. The blood-cemented 
fabric of Front-de-Boeuf ’s power totters to the founda- 
tion, and before the foes he most despised ! The Saxon, 
Eeginald ! — the scorned Saxon assails thy walls ! ’ ’ 
Gods and fiends! ” exclaimed the wounded knight. 
‘‘ Oh, for one moment’s strength, to drag myself to the 
fight, and perish as becomes my name! ” 

Think not of it, valiant warrior! ” replied Ulrica; 
thou shalt die no soldier’s death, but perish like the fox 
in his den, when the peasants have set fire to the cover 
around it. Markest thou the smoldering and suffoca- 
ting vapor which already eddies in sable folds through 
the chamber? Rememberest thou the magazine of fuel 
that is stored beneath these apartments ? ’ ’ 

Woman! ” he exclaimed with fury, thou hast not 
set fire to it ? — By Heaven, thou hast, and the castle is 
in flames! ” 

They are fast rising at least,” said Ulrica, with 
frightful composure; and a signal shall soon wave to 
warn the besiegers to press hard upon those who would 
extinguish them. — Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf! ” 

Cedric, although not greatly confldent in Ulrica’s 
message, omitted not to communicate her promise to the 
Black Knight and Locksley. They were well pleased 
to And they had a friend within the place, who might, 
in the moment of need, be able to facilitate their en- 
trance, and readily agreed with the Saxon that a storm, 
under whatever disadvantage, ought to be attempted, as 
the only means of liberating the prisoners. 


232 


IVANHOE 


And now, good Locksley,’’ said the Black Knight, 
‘‘ were it not well that noble Cedric should assume the 
direction of this assault? ’’ 

‘‘ Not a jot I,’’ returned Cedric; I have never been 
wont to study either how to take or how to hold out 
those abodes of tyrannic power which the Normans have 
erected in this groaning land. I will fight among the 
foremost ; but my honest neighbors well know I am not a 
trained soldier in the discipline of wars or the attack of 
strongholds. ’ ^ 

‘ ‘ Since it stands thus with noble Cedric, ’ ’ said Locks- 
ley, ‘‘ I am most willing to take on me the direction of 
the archery ; and ye shall hang me up on my own tryst- 
ing-tree an the defenders be permitted to show them- 
selves over the walls without being stuck with as many 
shafts as there are cloves in a gammon of bacon at 
Christmas.’’ 

Well said, stout yeoman,” answered the Black 
Knight; and if I be thought worthy to have a charge 
in these matters, and can find among these brave men 
as many as are willing to follow a true English knight, 
I am ready, with such skill as my experience has taught 
me, to lead them to the attack of these walls.” 

The parts being thus distributed to the leaders, they 
commenced the first assault, of which the reader has 
already heard the issue. 

When the barbican was carried, the Sable Knight sent 
notice of the happy event to Locksley, requesting him at 
the same time to keep such a strict observation on the 
castle as might prevent the defenders from combining 
their force for a sudden sally, and recovering the out- 
work which they had lost. The knight employed the 
interval in causing to be constructed a sort of floating 
bridge, or long raft, by means of which he hoped to 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


233 


cross the moat in despite of the resistance of the enemy. 

When the raft was completed the Black Knight ad- 
dressed the besiegers: It avails not waiting here 

longer, my friends ; the sun is descending to the west — 
and I have that upon my hands which will not permit 
me to tarry with you another day. Besides, it will be 
a marvel if the horsemen come not upon us from York, 
imless we speedily accomplish our purpose. Wherefore, 
one of ye go to Locksley, and bid him commence a dis- 
charge of arrows on the opposite side of the castle, and 
move forward as if about to assault it; and you, true 
English hearts, stand by me, and be ready to thrust the 
raft endlong over the moat whenever the postern on 
our side is thrown open. Follow me boldly across, and 
aid me to burst yon sallyport in the main wall of the 
castle. As many of you as like not this service, or are 
but ill armed to meet it, do you man the top of the out- 
work, draw your bowstrings to your ears, and mind you 
quell with your shot whatever shall appear to man the 
rampart. Noble Cedric, wilt thou take the direction of 
those which remain? ’’ 

^ ^ Not so, by the soul of Hereward ! ’ ’ said the Saxon ; 

lead, I cannot; but may posterity curse me in my 
grave, if I follow not with the foremost wherever thou 
shalt point the way. The quarrel is mine, and well it 
becomes me to be in the van of the battle. And — for- 
give the boast. Sir Knight — thou shalt this day see the 
naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the bat- 
tle as ever ye beheld the steel corselet of a Norman.’’ 

In the name of God, then,” said the knight, fling 
open the door, and launch the floating bridge.” 

The portal, which led from the inner wall of the bar- 
bican to the moat, and which corresponded with a sally- 
port in the main wall of the castle, was now suddenly 


234 


IVANHOE 


opened; the temporary bridge was then thrust forward, 
and soon flashed in the waters, extending its length 
between the castle and outwork, and forming a slippery 
and precarious passage for two men abreast to cross the 
moat. Well aware of the importance of taking the foe 
by surprise, the Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, 
threw himself upon the bridge, and reached the opposite 
side. Here he began to thunder with his ax upon the 
gate of the castle, protected in part from the shot and 
stones cast by the defenders by the ruins of the former 
drawbridge, which the Templar had demolished in his 
retreat from the barbican, leaving the counterpoise still 
attached to the upper part of the portal. The followers 
of the knight had no such shelter; two were instantly 
shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more fell into the 
moat ; the others retreated back into the barbican. 

The situation of Cedric and the Black Knight was 
now truly dangerous, and would have been still more so 
but for the constancy of the archers in the barbican, who 
ceased not to shower their arrows upon the battlements, 
distracting the attention of those by whom they were 
manned, and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs 
from the storm of missiles which must otherwise have 
overwhelmed them. But their situation was eminently 
perilous, and was becoming more so with every moment. 

‘‘ Shame on ye all! ’’ cried De Bracy to the soldiers 
around him; do ye call yourselves cross-bowmen, and 
let these two dogs keep their station under the walls of 
the castle? — Heave over the coping stones from the 
battlement, an better may not be — Get pickaxe and 
levers, and down with the huge pinnacle! ’’ pointing to 
a heavy piece of stone carved-work that projected from 
the parapet. 

At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


235 


flag upon the angle of the tower which Ulrica had de- 
scribed to Cedric. The stout yeoman Locksley was the 
first who was aware of it, as he was hasting to the out- 
work, impatient to see the progress of the assault. 

‘‘St. George!’’ he cried — “Merry St. George for 
England I — To the charge, bold yoemen ! why leave ye 
the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the pass 
alone ? — Make in, mad priest, show thou canst fight for 
thy rosary — make in, brave yeomen ! — the castle is 
ours, we have friends within — See yonder flag, it is the 
appointed signal — Torquilstone is ours ! Think of 
honor — think of spoil! One effort, and the place is 
ours! ” 

With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right 
through the breast of one of the men-at-arms, who, un- 
der De Bracy’s direction, was loosening a fragment from 
one of the battlements to precipitate on the heads of 
Cedric and the Black Ehiight. A second soldier caught 
from the hands of the dying man the iron crow, with 
which he heaved at and had loosened the stone pinnacle, 
when, receiving an arrow through his head-piece, he 
dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man. 
The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armor seemed 
proof against the shot of this tremendous archer. 

“ Do you give ground, base knaves! ” said De Bracy; 
“ Mount joye St. Denis! Give me the lever! ” 

And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened 
pinnacle, which was of weight enough, if throvm down, 
not only to destroy the remnant of the draw-bridge 
which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also 
to sink the rude float of planks over which they had 
crossed. All saw the danger, and the boldest, even the 
stout Friar himself, avoided setting foot on the raft. 
Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De Bracy, 


236 


IVANHOE 


and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight’s 
armor of proof. 

‘‘ Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat! ’’ said Locksley; 
‘‘ had English smith forged it, these arrows had gone 
through, an as if it had been silk or sendal.” He then 
began to call out, Comrades! friends! noble Cedric! 
bear back, and let the ruin fall.” 

His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the 
knight himself occasioned by his strokes upon the pos- 
tern would have drowned twenty war trumpets. The 
faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the planked 
bridge, to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share 
it with him. But his warning would have come too late ; 
the massive pinnacle already tottered, and De Bracy, 
who still heaved at his task, would have accomplished 
it, had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in 
his ear; 

All is lost, De Bracy; the castle burns.” 

‘‘ Thou art mad to say so! ” replied the knight. 

It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have 
striven in vain to extinguish it.” 

With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his 
character, Brian de Bois-Guilbert communicated this 
hideous intelligence, which was not so calmly received 
by his astonished comrade. 

‘‘ Saints of Paradise! ” said De Bracy; what is to 
be done? I vow to St. Nicholas of Limoges a candle- 
stick of pure gold — ” 

Spare thy vow,” said the Templar, ‘‘ and mark me. 
Lead thy men down, as if to a sally ; throw the postern 
gate open — There are but two men who occupy the 
float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the 
barbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack 
the barbican on the outside; and if we can regain that 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


237 


post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we are 
relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter.’’ 

‘‘It is well thought upon,” said De Bracy; “ I will 
play my part. Templar, thou wilt not fail me? ” 

“ Hand and glove, I will not! ” said Bois-Guilbert. 

‘ ‘ But hasten ! ’ ’ 

De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed 
down to the postern gate, which he caused instantly to 
be thrown open. But scarce was this done ere the por- 
tentous strength of the Black Knight forced his way 
inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two 
of the foremost instantly fell, and the rest gave way 
notwithstanding all their leader’s efforts to stop them. 

“ Dogs! ” said De Bracy, “ will ye let two men win 
our only pass for safety? ” 

“ He is the devil! ” said a veteran man-at-arms, bear- 
ing back from the blows of their sable antagonist. 

“ And if he be the devil,” replied De Bracy, “ would 
you fly from him into the mouth of Hell ? — the castle 
burns behind us, villains! — let despair give you cour- 
age, or let me forward ! I will cope with this champion 
myself. ’ ’ 

And well and chivalrously did De Bracy that day 
maintain the fame he had acquired in the civil wars of 
that dreadful period. The vaulted passage to which the 
postern gave entrance, and in which these two re- 
doubted champions were now flghting hand to hand, 
rung with the furious blows which they dealt each 
other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight with 
his ponderous ax. At length the Norman received a 
blow which, though its force was partly parried by his 
shield, for otherwise never more would De Bracy have 
again moved limb, descended yet with such violence on 
his crest that he measured his length on the paved floor. 


238 


IVANHOE 


Yield thee, De Bracy,’’ said the Black Champion, 
stooping over him, and holding against the bars of his 
helmet the fatal poniard with which the knights dis- 
patched their enemies (and which was called the dag- 
ger of mercy) — yield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue 
or no rescue, or thou art but a dead man/’ 

I will not yield,” replied De Bracy, faintly, to 
an unknown conqueror. Tell me thy name, or work 
thy pleasure on me — it shall never be said that Maurice 
de Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl. ’ ’ 

The Black Knight whispered something into the ear 
of the vanquished. 

“ I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue,” 
answered the Norman, exchanging his tone of stern and 
determined obstinacy for one of deep though sullen 
submission. 

Go to the barbican,” said the victor, in a tone of 
authority, ‘‘ and there wait my further orders.” 

‘‘ Yet first let me say,” said De Bracy, what it im- 
ports thee to know. Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and 
a prisoner, and will perish in the burning castle without 
present help.” 

Wilfred of Ivanhoe! ” exclaimed the Black Knight 
— ‘ ‘ prisoner, and perish I The life of every man in the 
castle shall answer it if a hair of his head be singed — 
Show me his chamber ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ Ascend yonder winding stair,” said De Bracy; it 
leads to his apartment. Wilt thou not accept my guid- 
ance? ” he added, in a submissive voice. 

No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. 
I trust thee not, De Bracy. ’ ’ 

During this combat and the brief conversation which 
ensued, Cedric, at the head of a body of men, among 
whom the Friar was conspicuous, had pushed across 



These two champions were fighting hand to hand.’’ 





THE SECOND ASSAULT 


239 


the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and 
drove back the dispirited and despairing followers of 
De Bracy, of whom some asked quarter, some offered 
vain resistance, and the greater part fled towards the 
courtyard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, 
and cast a sorrowful glance after his conqueror. He 
trusts me not! ’’ he repeated; but have I deserved 
his trust? ’’ He then lifted his sword from the floor, 
took off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to 
the barbican, gave up his sword to Locksley, whom he 
met by the way. 

As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon 
apparent in the chamber where Ivanhoe was watched 
and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. At length the vol- 
umes of smoke which rolled into the apartment, the 
cries for water, which were heard even above the din 
of the battle, made them sensible of the progress of this 
new danger. 

‘‘ The castle burns/’ said Rebecca, it burns! What 
can we do to save ourselves ? ’ ’ 

Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life,” said Ivan- 
hoe, ^ ^ for no human aid can avail me. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I will not fly, ’ ’ answered Rebecca ; “ we will be 
saved or perish together. And yet, great God! my 
father — my father ! — what will be his fate ? ” 

At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, 
and the Templar presented himself — a ghastly figure, 
for his gilded armor was broken and bloody, and the 
plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his 
casque. I have found thee,” said he to Rebecca; 
‘‘ once didst thou foil me, but never mortal did so 
twice.” 

So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled 


240 


IVANHOE 


the air with her shrieks, and bore her out of the room 
in his arms, in spite of her cries, and without regarding 
the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoe thundered 
against him. ^ ‘ Hound of the Temple — stain to thine 
Order — set free the damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, 
it is Ivanhoe commands thee ! — Villain, I will have thy 
heart ’s blood ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ I had not found thee, Wilfred,’’ said the Black 
Knight, who at that instant entered the apartment, 
‘ ‘ but for thy shouts. ’ ’ 

If thou be’st true knight,” said Wilfred, ‘‘ think 
not of me — pursue yon ravisher — save the Lady Kow- 
ena — look to the noble Cedric I ’ ’ 

In their turn,” answered he of the Fetterlock, but 
thine is first. ’ ’ 

And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as 
much ease as the Templar had carried off Rebecca, 
rushed with him to the postern, and, having there de- 
livered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he again 
entered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other 
prisoners. 

One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed 
out furiously from window and shot-hole. But in 
other parts the rage of man still triumphed; for the 
besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from cham- 
ber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance 
which had long animated them against the soldiers of 
the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison re- 
sisted to the uttermost — few of them asked quarter — 
none received it. The air was filled with groans and 
the clashing of arms — the floors were slippery with the 
blood of despairing and expiring wretches. 

Through this scene of confusion, . Cedric rushed in 
quest of Rowena, while the faithful Gurth, following 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


241 


him closely through the affray, neglected his own safety 
while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed at 
his master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to 
reach his ward’s apartment just as she had abandoned 
all hope of safety, and, with a crucifix clasped in agony 
to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant death. He 
committed her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted 
in safety to the barbican, the road to which was now 
cleared of the enemy, and not yet interrupted by the 
flames. This accomplished, the loyal Cedric hastened 
in quest of his friend Athelstane, determined, at every 
risk to himself, to save that last scion of Saxon royalty. 
But ere Cedric had penetrated as far as the old hall in 
which he had himself been a prisoner, the inventive 
genius of Wamba had procured liberation for himself 
and his companion in adversity. 

When the noise of the conflict announced that it was 
at the hottest, the Jester began to shout, with the utmost 
power of his lungs, ^ ‘ St. George and the dragon ! — 
bonny St. George for Merry England — the castle is 
won ! ’ ’ And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful 
by banging against each other two or three pieces of 
rusty armor which lay scattered around the hall. 

A guard which had been stationed in the outer or 
ante-room, and whose spirits were already in a state of 
alarm, took fright at Wamba ’s clamor, and, leaving the 
door open behind them, ran to tell the Templar that 
foemen had entered the old hall. Meantime the pris- 
oners found no difficulty in making their escape into the 
ante-room, and from thence into the court of the castle, 
which was now the last scene of contest. Here sat the 
fierce Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by 
several of the garrison both on horse and foot, who 
had united their strength to that of this renowned 


242 


IVANHOE 


leader, in order to secure the last chance of safety and 
retreat which remained to them. The drawbridge had 
been lowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; 
for the archers, who had hitherto only annoyed the 
castle on that side by their missiles, no sooner saw the 
flames breaking out, and the bridge lowered, than they 
thronged to the entrance, as well to prevent the escape 
of the garrison as to secure their own share of booty 
ere the castle should be burned down. On the other 
hand, a party of the besiegers, who had entered by the 
postern, were now issuing out into the courtyard, and 
attacking with fury the remnant of the defenders, who 
were thus assaulted on both sides at once. 

Animated, however, by despair, and supported by the 
example of their indomitable leader, the remaining sol- 
diers of the castle fought with the utmost valor; and, 
being well armed, succeeded more than once in driving 
back the assailants, though much inferior in numbers. 
Rebecca, placed on horseback before one of the Templar ’s 
Saracen slaves, was in the midst of the little party; 
and Bois-Guilbert, notwithstanding the confusion of the 
bloody fray, showed every attention to her safety. Re- 
peatedly he was by her side, and, neglecting his own 
defense, held before her the fence of his triangular, steel- 
plated shield; and anon, starting from his position by 
her, he cried his war-cry, dashed forward, struck to 
earth the most forward of the assailants, and was on 
the same instant once more at her bridle rein. 

Athelstane, who, as the reader knows, was sloth- 
ful, but not cowardly, beheld the female form whom 
the Templar protected thus sedulously, and doubted 
not that it was Rowena whom the knight was carry- 
ing off. 

‘‘ By the soul of St. Edward,’’ he said, I will rescue 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


243 


her from yonder over-proud knight, and he shall die by 
my hand! ’’ 

'' Think what you do! ’’ cried Wamba; hasty hand 
catches frog for fish — by my bauble, yonder is none of 
my Lady Rowena, — see but her long dark locks ! And 
you without armor too ! — bethink you, silk bonnet never 
kept out steel blade. — Nay, then, if willful will to water, 
willful must drench. God be with you, most doughty 
Athelstane ! ’ ’ he concluded, loosening the hold which he 
had hitherto kept upon the Saxon ’s tunic. 

To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay 
beside one whose dying grasp had just relinquished it, 
to rush on the Templar’s band, and to strike in quick 
succession to the right and left, leveling a warrior at 
each blow, was, for Athelstane ’s great strength, now 
animated with unusual fury, but the work of a single 
moment ; he was soon within two yards of Bois-Guilbert, 
whom he defied in his loudest tone. 

‘ ‘ Turn, false-hearted Templar ! let go her whom thou 
art unworthy to touch — turn, limb of a band of murder- 
ing and hypocritical robbers ! ’ ’ 

Dog! ” said the Templar, grinding his teeth, I will 
teach thee to blaspheme the holy Order of the Temple 
of Zion ; ’ ’ and with these words, half-wheeling his steed, 
he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, and, rising 
in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent 
of the horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head 
of Athelstane. 

Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no 
steel blade! So trenchant was the Templar’s weapon, 
that it shore asunder, as it had been a willow twig, the 
tough and plated handle of the mace, which the ill-fated 
Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his 
head, leveled him with the earth. 


2U 


IVANHOE 


‘‘ Ha! Beau-seant! ’’ exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, thus 
be it to the maligners of the Temple knights! Taking 
advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of 
Athelstane, and calling aloud, Those who would save 
themselves, follow me! he pushed across the draw- 
bridge, dispersing the archers who would have inter- 
cepted them. He was followed by his Saracens, and by 
some five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted their 
horses. The Templar’s retreat was rendered perilous by 
the numbers of arrows shot off at him and his party ; but 
this did not prevent him from galloping round to the 
barbican, of which, according to his previous plan, he 
supposed it possible De Bracy might be in possession. 

De Bracy! De Bracy! ” he shouted, art thou 
there? ” 

‘‘ I am here,” replied De Bracy, but I am a pris- 
oner. ’ ’ 

Can I rescue thee? ” cried Bois-Guilbert. 

‘‘No,” replied De Bracy; “I have rendered me, 
rescue or no rescue. I will be true prisoner. Save thy- 
self — there are hawks abroad — put the seas betwixt 
you and England; I dare not say more.” 

“ Well,” answered the Templar, “ an thou wilt tarry 
there, remember I have redeemed word and glove. Be 
the hawks where they will, methinks the walls of the 
preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, and 
thither will I, like heron to her haunt. ’ ’ 

Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers. 

Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still 
continued to fight desperately with the besiegers, after 
the departure of the Templar, but rather in despair of 
quarter than that they entertained any hope of escape. 
The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of the 
castle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared 


THE SECOND ASSAULT 


245 


on a turret, in the guise of one of the ancient furies, 
yelling forth a war-song, such as was of yore raised on 
the field of battle by the scalds of the yet heathen Saxons. 

The towering flames had now surmounted every ob- 
struction, and rose to the evening skies one huge and 
burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed down, with 
blazing roof and rafter ; and the combatants were driven 
from the courtyard. The vanquished, of whom very few 
remained, scattered and escaped into the neighboring 
wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed 
with wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in 
which their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red. The 
maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was for a long time 
visible on the lofty stand she had chosen. At length, 
with a terrific crash, the whole turret gave way, and she 
perished in the flames which had consumed her tyrant. 
An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur of the 
armed spectators, who, for the space of several miuutes, 
stirred not a finger, save to sign the cross. The voice of 
Locksley was then heard: Shout, yeomen! the den of 

tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to our 
chosen place of rendezvous at the trysting-tree in the 
Harthill Walk; for there at break of day will we make 
just partition among our own bands, together with our 
worthy allies in this great deed of vengeance. ’ ’ 


17 


CHAPTER XXVII 


PARTING THE SPOIL 

Daylight had dawned upon the glades of the oak 
forest. The outlaws were all assembled around the tryst- 
ing-tree in the Harthill Walk, where they had spent the 
night in refreshing themselves after the fatigues of the 
siege — some with wine, some with slumber, many with 
hearing and recounting the events of the day, and com- 
puting the heaps of plunder which their success had 
placed at the disposal of their chief. 

The spoils were indeed very large ; for, notwithstand- 
ing that much was consumed, a great deal of plate, rich 
armor, and splendid clothing had been secured by the 
exertions of the dauntless outlaws. Yet so strict were 
the laws of their society, that no one ventured to appro- 
priate any part of the booty, which was brought into 
one common mass, to be at the disposal of their leader. 

The place of rendezvous was an aged oak; not, how- 
ever, the same to which Locksley had conducted Gurth 
and Wamba in the earlier part of the story, but one 
which was the center of a silvan amphitheater, within 
half a mile of the demolished castle of Torquilstone. 
Here Locksley assumed his seat — a throne of turf 
erected under the twisted branches of the huge oak — and 
the silvan followers were gathered around him. He 
assigned to the Black Knight a seat at his right hand, 
and to Cedric a place upon his left. 

Now, sirs,’’ said he who hath seen our chaplain? 
246 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


247 


where is our curtal Friar? '' No one had seen the Clerk 
of Copmanhurst. “ Over gods forbode! ’’ said the out- 
law chief, I trust the jolly priest hath but abidden by 
the wine-pot a thought too late. Who saw him since the 
castle was ta’en? 

‘‘ I,’’ quoth the Miller, marked him busy about the 
door of a cellar, swearing by each saint in the calendar 
he would taste the smack of Front-de-Boeuf ’s Gascoigne 
wine.’’ 

Now, the saints, as many as there be of them,” said 
the captain, ^ ‘ f orefend, lest he has drunk too deep of the 
wine-butts, and perished by the fall of the castle ! — 
Away, Miller ! — take with you enow of men, seek the 
place where you last saw him — throw water from the 
moat on the scorching ruins; I will have them removed 
stone by stone ere I lose my curtal Friar. ’ ’ 

The numbers who hastened to execute this duty, con- 
sidering that an interesting division of spoil was about to 
take place, showed how much the troop had at heart the 
safety of their spiritual father. 

Meanwhile, let us proceed,” said Locksley; for 
when this bold deed shall be sounded abroad, the bands 
of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other allies of Front-de- 
Boeuf, will be in motion against us, and it were well for 
our safety that we retreat from the vicinity. Noble 
Cedric,” he said, turning to the Saxon, that spoil is di- 
vided into two portions; do thou make choice of that 
which best suits thee, to recompense thy people who were 
partakers with us in this adventure. ’ ’ 

Good yeoman,” said Cedric, my heart is oppressed 
with sadness. The noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh is 
no more — the last sprout of the sainted Confessor! 
My people, save the few who are now with me, do but 
tarry my presence to transport his honored remains to 


248 


IVANHOE 


their last mansion. The Lady Rowena is desirous to 
return to Rotherwood, and must be escorted by a suffi- 
cient force. I should, therefore, ere now have left this 
place ; and I waited but to render my thanks to thee and 
to thy bold yeomen, for the life and honor ye have 
saved. ’ ^ 

Nay, but/’ said the chief outlaw, we did but half 
the work at most — take of the spoil what may reward 
your own neighbors and followers.” 

I am rich enough to reward them from mine own 
wealth,” answered Cedric. 

‘‘ And some,” said Wamba, have been wise enough to 
reward themselves ; they do not march off empty-handed 
altogether.” 

They are welcome,” said Locksley; our laws bind 
none but ourselves.” 

‘‘ But thou, my poor knave,” said Cedric, turning 
about and embracing his Jester, how shall I reward 
thee, who feared not to give thy body to chains and death 
instead of mine ? All forsook me, when the poor fool was 
faithful! ” 

Nay,” said the Jester, extricating himself from his 
master’s caress, if you pay my service with the water 
of your eye, the Jester must weep for company, and then 
what becomes of his vocation ? — But, uncle, if you would 
indeed pleasure me, I pray you to pardon my playfellow 
Gurth, who stole a week from your service to bestow, it 
on your son.” 

Pardon him! ” exclaimed Cedric; I will both par- 
don and reward him. Kneel down, Gurth. ” — The swine- 
herd was in an instant at his master’s feet. — Thrall and 
bondsman art thou no longer,” said Cedric, touching him 
with a wand ; ‘ ‘ a lawful freeman art thou in town, and 
from town, in the forest as in the field. A hide of land 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


249 


I give to thee in my steads of Walburgham, from me and 
mine to thee and thine aye and for ever; and God’s 
malison on his head who this gainsays ! ’ ’ 

No longer a serf but a freeman and a land-holder, 
Gurth sprung upon his feet, and twice bounded aloft to 
almost his own height from the ground. 

A smith and a file,” he cried, to do away the collar 
from the neck of a freeman ! — Noble master ! doubled 
is my strength by your gift, and doubly will I fight for 
you ! — There is a free spirit in my breast. I am a man 
changed to myself and all around. Ha, Fangs ! ” he con- 
tinued, — for that faithful cur, seeing his master thus 
transported, began to jump upon him to express his sym- 
pathy, — ^ ^ knowest thou thy master still ? ’ ’ 

The tramp of horses was now heard, and the Lady 
Eowena appeared, surrounded by several riders, and a 
much stronger party of footmen, who joyfully shook their 
pikes and clashed their brown-bills for joy of her free- 
dom. 

As Eowena bent her steed towards Locksley ’s seat, that 
bold yeoman, with all his followers, rose to receive her, 
as if by a general instinct of courtesy. The blood rose 
to her cheeks as, courteously waving her hand, and bend- 
ing so low that her beautiful tresses were for an instant 
mixed with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she ex- 
pressed in few but apt words her obligations and her 
gratitude to Locksley and her other deliverers. God 
bless you, brave men, ’ ’ she concluded — ‘ ‘ God and Our 
Lady bless you and requite you for gallantly periling 
yourselves in the cause of the oppressed ! If any of you 
should hunger, remember Eowena has food — if you 
should thirst, she has many a butt of wine and brown 
ale — and if the Normans drive ye from these walks, 
Eowena has forests of her own, where her gallant deliv- 


250 


IVANHOE 


erers may range at full freedom, and never ranger ask 
whose arrow hath struck down the deer. ’ ’ 

Thanks, gentle lady,” said Locksley — '' thanks from 
my company and myself. But to have saved you re- 
quites itself. ’ ’ 

Cedric, ere they departed, expressed his peculiar grati- 
tude to the Black Champion, and earnestly entreated him 
to accompany him to Eotherwood. 

I know,” he said, that ye errant knights desire to 
carry your fortunes on the point of your lance, and reck 
not of land or goods ; but war is a changeful mistress, 
and a home is sometimes desirable even to the champion 
whose trade is wandering. Thou hast earned one in the 
halls of Eotherwood, noble knight. Cedric has wealth 
enough to repair the injuries of fortune, and all he has 
is his deliverer’s. Come, therefore, to Eotherwood, not 
as a guest, but as a son or brother. ’ ’ 

Cedric has already made me rich,” said the Knight; 

he has taught me the value of Saxon virtue. To Eoth- 
erwood will I come, brave Saxon, and that speedily ; but, 
as now, pressing matters of moment detain me from your 
halls. Peradventure, when I come thither, I will ask 
such a boon as will put even thy generosity to the test.” 

It is granted ere spoken out,” said Cedric, striking 
his ready hand into the gauntleted palm of the Black 
Knight — ‘ ‘ it is granted already, were it to affect half 
my fortune.” 

Gauge not thy promise so lightly,” said the Knight 
of the Fetterlock; ‘‘ yet well I hope to gain the boon I 
shall ask. Meanwhile, adieu.” 

‘‘ I have but to say,” added the Saxon, that, during 
the funeral rites of the noble Athelstane, I shall be an 
inhabitant of the halls of his castle of Coningsburgh — 
They will be open to all who choose to partake of the 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


251 


funeral banqueting; and, I speak in the name of the 
noble Edith, mother of the fallen prince, they will never 
be shut against him who labored so bravely, though un- 
successfully, to save Athelstane from Norman chains and 
Norman steel. ’ ’ 

Kowena waved a graceful adieu to him of the Fetter- 
lock, the Saxon bade him God speed, and on they moved 
through a wide glade of the forest. 

They had scarce departed, ere a sudden procession 
moved from under the greenwood branches, swept slowly 
round the silvan amphitheater, and took the same direc- 
tion with Kowena and her followers. The priests of a 
neighboring convent, in expectation of the ample dona- 
tion, or soul-scat, which Cedric had propined, attended 
upon the car in which the body of Athelstane was laid. 

Again the outlaws arose, and paid the same rude and 
spontaneous homage to death which they had so lately 
rendered to beauty ; the slow chant and mournful step of 
the priests brought back to their remembrance such of 
their comrades as had fallen in the yesterday ^s affray. 
But such recollections dwell not long with those who lead 
a life of danger and enterprise, and ere the sound of the 
death hymn had died on the wind, the outlaws were 
again busied in the distribution of their spoil. 

‘‘ Valiant knight,’’ said Locksley to the Black Cham- 
pion, ‘‘ without whose good heart and mighty arm our 
enterprise must altogether have failed, will it please you 
to take from that mass of spoil whatever may best serve 
to pleasure you, and to remind you of this my Trysting- 
tree? ” 

‘‘ I accept the offer,” said the Knight, as frankly as 
it is given; and I ask permission to dispose of Sir 
Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure.” 

He is thine already,” said Locksley, and well for 


252 


IVANHOE 


him ! else the tyrant had graced the highest bough of this 
oak, with as many of his Free Companions as we could 
gather, hanging thick as acorns around him. — But he is 
thy prisoner, and he is safe, though he had slain my 
father.’’ 

‘ ‘ De Bracy, ’ ’ said the Knight, ^ ^ thou art free — de- 
part. He whose prisoner thou art scorns to take mean 
revenge for what is past. But beware of the future, lest 
a w^orse thing befall thee. — Maurice de Bracy, I say 
beware! ” 

De Bracy bowed low and in silence, and was about to 
withdraw, when the yeomen burst at once into 
a shout of execration and derision. The proud 
knight instantly stopped, turned back, folded his arms, 
drew up his form to its full height, and ex- 
claimed, ‘ ‘ Peace, ye yelping curs ! De Bracy scorns 
your censure as he would disdain your applause. To 
your brakes and caves, ye outlawed thieves I and be silent 
when aught knightly or noble is but spoken within a 
league of your fox-earths.” 

This ill-timed defiance might have procured for De 
Bracy a volley of arrows, but for the hasty and impera- 
tive interference of the outlaw Chief. Meanwhile, the 
knight caught a horse by the rein, for several which had 
been taken in the stables of Front-de-Boeuf stood accou- 
tered around, and were a valuable part of the booty. He 
threw himself upon the saddle, and galloped off through 
the wood. 

When the bustle occasioned by this incident was some- 
what composed, the chief outlaw took from his neck the 
rich horn and baldric which he had recently gained at 
the strife of archery near Ashby. 

Noble knight,” he said to him of the Fetterlock, if 
you disdain not to grace by your acceptance a bugle 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


253 


which an English yeoman has once worn, this I will pray 
you to keep as a memorial of your gallant bearing ; and 
if ye have aught to do, and, as happeneth oft to a gallant 
knight, ye chance to be hard bested, in any forest be- 
tween Trent and Tees, wind three mots upon the horn 
thus, Wa-sa-hoa! and it may well chance ye shall find 
helpers and rescue.’’ 

He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once 
and again the call which he described, until the Knight 
had caught the notes. 

‘‘ Many thanks for the gift, bold yeoman,” said the 
Knight; and better help than thine and thy rangers’ 
would I never seek, were it at my utmost need.” And 
then in his turn he winded the call till all the greenwood 
rang. 

Well blown and clearly,” said the yeoman; ‘‘ be- 
shrew me an thou knowest not as much of woodcraft as of 
war ! Thou hast been a striker of deer in thy day, I war- 
rant. — Comrades, mark these three mots — it is the 
call of the Knight of the Fetterlock; and he who hears 
it, and hastens not to serve him at his need, I will 
have him scourged out of our band with his own bow- 
string. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Long live our leader ! ’ ’ shouted the yeomen, ‘ ‘ and 
long live the Black Knight of the Fetterlock! May he 
soon use our service to prove how readily it will be 
paid.” 

Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of . the 
spoil, which he performed with the most laudable im- 
partiality. A tenth part of the whole was set apart for 
the church and for pious uses; a portion was next 
allotted to a sort of public treasury; a part was assigned 
to the widows and children of those who had fallen, or to 
be expended in masses for the souls of such as had left 


254 


IVANHOE 


no surviving family. The rest was divided among the 
outlaws, according to their rank and merit. 

When each had taken his own proportion of the booty, 
and while the treasurer, accompanied by four tall yeo- 
men, was transporting that belonging to the state to some 
place of concealment or of security, the portion devoted 
to the church still remained unappropriated. 

‘‘ I would,’’ said the leader, ‘‘ we could hear tidings 
of our joyous chaplain — he was never wont to be absent 
when meat was to be blessed, or spoil to be parted ; and 
it is his duty to take care of these the tithes of our suc- 
cessful enterprise. ’ ’ 

While he thus spoke, a loud shot among the yeomen 
announced the arrival of him for whom they feared, as 
they learned from the stentorian voice of the Friar him- 
self, long before they saw his burly person. 

‘ ‘ Make room, my merry men ! ” he exclaimed — 

room for your godly father and his prisoner. Cry 
welcome once more. — I come, noble leader, like an eagle, 
with my prey in my clutch.” And, making his way 
through the ring, amid the laughter of all around, he 
appeared in majestic triumph, his huge partisan in one 
hand, and in the other a halter, one end of which was 
fastened to the neck of the unfortunate Isaac of York, 
who, bent down by sorrow and terror, was dragged on by 
the victorious priest, who shouted aloud, Where is 
Allan-a-Dale, to, chronicle me in a ballad, or if it were 
but a lay? — By St. Hermangild, the jingling crowder is 
ever out of the way where there is an apt theme for exalt- 
ing valor ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ Curtal Priest,” said the captain, ‘‘ thou hast been at 
a wet mass this morning, as early as it is. In the name 
of St. Nicholas, whom hast thou got here ? ’ ’ 

A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble cap- 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


255 


tain/’ replied the Clerk of Copmanhurst, to my bow 
and to my halberd, I should rather say. By St. Dunstan ! 
I found him where I sought for better ware ! I did step 
into the cellarage to see what might be rescued there; 
for though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be an even- 
ing ’s draught for an emperor, it were waste, methought, 
to let so much good liquor be mulled at once ; and I had 
caught up one runlet of sack, and was coming to call 
more aid among these lazy knaves, who are ever to seek 
when a good deed is to be done, when I was avised of a 
strong door. — Aha ! thought I, here is the choicest juice 
of all in this secret crypt; and the knave butler, being 
disturbed in his vocation, hath left the key in the door — 
In therefore I went, and found just nought besides a com- 
modity of rusted chains and this dog of a Jew, who 
presently rendered himself my prisoner, rescue or no 
rescue. I did but refresh myself after the fatigue of the 
action with the unbeliever, with one humming cup of 
sack, and was proceeding to lead forth my captive, when, 
crash after crash, down toppled the masonry of another 
tower (marry beshrew their hands that built it not the 
firmer!) and blocked up the passage. The roar of 
one falling tower followed another — I gave up thought 
of life ; and, deeming it a dishonor to one of my profes- 
sion to pass out of this world in company with a Jew, I 
heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out ; but I took 
pity on his gray hairs, and judged it better to lay down 
the partisan, and take up my spiritual weapon for his 
conversion. And truly, by the blessing of St. Dunstan, 
the seed has been sown in good soil ; only that, with speak- 
ing to him of mysteries through the whole night, and being 
in a manner fasting (for the few draughts of sack which 
I sharpened my wits with, were not worth marking), my 
head is well-nigh dizzied, I trow. But I was clean ex- 


256 


IVANHOE 


hausted. Gilbert and Wibbald know in what state they 
found me — quite and clean exhausted. ’ ’ 

‘‘We can bear witness/’ said Gilbert; “ for when we 
had cleared away the ruin, and by St. Dunstan’s help 
lighted upon the dungeon stair, we found the runlet of 
sack half-empty, the Jew half-dead, and the Friar more 
than half — exhausted, as he calls it. ’ ’ 

“ Ye be knaves! ye lie! ” retorted the offended Friar; 
“ it was you and your gormandizing companions that 
drank up the sack, and called it your morning draught. 
I am a pagan, an I kept it not for the captain’s own 
throat. But what recks it? The Jew is converted, and 
understands all I have told him, very nearly, if not alto- 
gether, as well as myself.” 

“ Jew,” said the captain, “ is this true? Hast thou 
renounced thine unbelief? ” 

“ May I so find mercy in your eyes,” said the Jew, 
“as I know not one word which the reverend prelate 
spake to me all this fearful night. Alas ! I am an aged, 
beggar’d man — I fear me a childless — have ruth on 
me, and let me go ! ” 

“ Nay,” said the Friar, “ if thou dost retract vows 
made in favor of holy church, thou must do penance.” 

Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have 
laid the staff of it lustily on the Jew’s shoulders, had not 
the Black Knight stopped the blow, and thereby trans- 
ferred the holy clerk ’s resentment to himself. 

“ By St. Thomas of Kent,” said he, “ an I buckle to 
my gear, I will teach thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with 
thine own matters, in spite of thine iron case there ! ’ ’ 

“ Nay, be not wroth with me,” said the Knight ; “ thou 
knowest I am thy sworn friend and comrade. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I know no such thing, ’ ’ answered the Friar ; ‘ ‘ and 
I defy thee for a meddling coxcomb! ” 


PARTING THE SPOIL 


257 


Nay, but,’’ said the Knight, who seemed to take a 
pleasure in provoking his quondam host, ‘ ‘ hast thou for- 
gotten how for my sake (for I say nothing of the 
temptation of the flagon and the pasty) thou didst break 
thy vow of fast and vigil ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ Truly, friend,” said the Friar, clenching his huge 
fist, I will bestow a buffet on thee.” 

I accept no such presents,” said the Ejiight; ‘‘ I 
am content to take thy cuff as a loan, but I will repay 
thee with usury as deep as ever thy prisoner there ex- 
acted in his traffic.” 

‘ ‘ I will prove that presently, ’ ’ said the Friar. 

^ ‘ Hola ! ’ ’ cried the captain, ‘ ‘ what art thou after, mad 
Friar? brawling beneath our trysting-tree ? ” 

No brawling,” said the Knight; it is but a friendly 
interchange of courtesy. Friar, strike an thou darest — 
I will stand thy blow, if thou wilt stand mine. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot on thy 
head, ’ ’ said the churchman ; ^ ‘ but have at thee — Down 
thou goest, an thou wert Goliath of Gath in his brazen 
helmet.” 

The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow, and, 
putting his full strength to the blow, gave the Knight a 
buffet that might have felled an ox. But his adversary 
stood firm as a rock. A loud shout was uttered by all 
the yeomen around; for the clerk’s cuff was proverbial 
among them, and there were few who, in jest or earnest, 
had not had occasion to know its vigor. ‘‘ Now, Priest,” 
said the Knight, pulling off his gauntlet, if I had van- 
tage on my head, I will have none on my hand; stand 
fast as a true man.” 

I have given my cheek to the smiter,” said the 
Priest; an thou canst stir me from the spot, fellow, 

I will freely bestow on thee the Jew’s ransom.” 


258 


IVANHOE 


So spoke the burly Priest, assuming, on his part, high 
defiance. But who may resist his fate? The buffet of 
the Knight was given with such strength and good-will 
that the Friar rolled head over heels upon the plain, to 
the great amazement of all the spectators. But he arose 
neither angry nor crestfallen. 

“ Brother,” said he to the Knight, ‘‘ thou shouldst 
have used thy strength with more discretion. I had 
mumbled but a lame mass an thou hadst broken my jaw, 
for the piper plays ill that wants the nether chops. Nev- 
ertheless, there is my hand, in friendly witness that I 
will exchange no more cuffs with thee, having been a 
loser by the barter. End now all unkindness. Let us 
put the Jew on ransom, since the leopard will not 
change his spots, and a Jew he will continue to be.” 

Were many of Pront-de-Boeuf ^s men taken? ” de- 
manded the Black Knight. 

None of note enough to be put to ranson,” answered 
the captain; ‘‘ a set of paltry fellows there were, whom 
we dismissed to find them a new master; enough had 
been done for revenge and profit; the bunch of them 
were not worth a cardecu. But yonder prisoner is 
better booty, an I may judge by his horse-gear and wear- 
ing apparel — Here cometh the worthy prelate, as pert 
as a pyet.” And between two yeomen was brought be- 
fore the silvan throne of the outlaw chief our old friend. 
Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE RANSOM OP THE PRIOR AND THE JEW 

The captive Abbot’s features and manners exhibited 
a whimsical mixture of offended pride, and deranged 
foppery, and bodily terror. 

Why, how now, my masters? ” said he, with a voice 
in which all three emotions were blended. Be ye 
Turks or Christians, that handle a churchman? Ye have 
plundered my mails, torn my cope of curious cut lace, 
which might have served a cardinal. Another in my 
place would have been at his ^ I will excommunicate 
you but I am placable, and if ye order forth my 
palfreys, release my brethren, and restore my mails, tell 
down with all speed an hundred crowns to be expended 
in masses at the high altar of Jorvaulx Abbey, and make 
your vow to eat no venison until next Pentecost, it may 
be you shall hear little more of this mad frolic.” 

Holy father,” said the chief Outlaw, it grieves 
me to think that you have met with such usage from 
any of my followers as calls for your fatherly repre- 
hension. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Usage! ” echoed the priest, encouraged by the mild 
tone of the silvan leader ; it were usage fit for no hound 
of good race — much less for a Christian — far less for 
a priest — and least of all for the prior of the holy com- 
munity of Jorvaulx. Here is a profane and drunken 
minstrel, called Allan-a-Dale, who has menaced me with 
corporal punishment — nay, with death itself, an I pay 
259 


260 


IVANHOE 


not down four hundred crowns of ransom, to the boot 
of all the treasure he hath already robbed me of — gold 
chains and gymmal rings to an unknown value ; besides 
what is broken and spoiled among their rude hands, such 
as my pouncet-box and silver crisping-tongs. ” 

‘‘It is impossible that Allan-a-Dale can have thus 
treated a man of your reverend bearing,” replied the 
Captain. 

“ It is true as the gospel of St. Nicodemus,” said the 
Prior; “ he swore, with many a cruel north*country oath, 
that he would hang me up on the highest tree in the 
greenwood. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Did he so in very deed ? Nay, then, reverend father, 
I think you had better comply with his demands — for 
Allan-a-Dale is the very man to abide by his word when 
he has so pledged it.” 

“ You do but jest with me,” said the astounded Prior, 
with a forced laugh; “ and I love a good jest with 
all my heart. But, ha! ha! ha! when the mirth has 
lasted the livelong night, it is time to be grave in the 
morning. ’ ’ 

“ And I am as grave as a father confessor,” replied 
the Outlaw ; ‘ ‘ you must pay a round ransom. Sir Prior, 
or your convent is likely to be called to a new election ; 
for your place will know you no more.” 

“ Well, friend,” said the Abbot, peevishly, “ what 
ransom am I to pay for walking on Watling Street with- 
out having fifty men at my back ? ’ ’ 

“ Were it not well,” said the lieutenant of the gang 
apart to the Captain, “ that the Prior should name the 
Jew’s ransom, and the Jew name the Prior’s? ” 

“ Thou art a mad knave,” said the Captain, “ but 
thy plan transcends ! — Here, Jew, step forth — Look at 
that holy Father Aymer, Prior of the rich Abbey of 


THE RANSOM 


261 


Jorvaulx, and tell ns at what ransom we should hold 
him ? — Thou knowest the income of his convent, I war- 
rant thee. ’ ’ 

Oh, assuredly,” said Isaac. I have tralBcked with 
the good fathers, and bought wheat and barley, and 
fruits of the earth, and also much wool. Oh, it is a rich 
abbeystede, and they do live upon the fat, and drink the 
sweet wines upon the lees, these good fathers of Jor- 
vaulx.” 

‘‘ All this helps nothing,” said the leader. Isaac, 
pronounce what he may pay, without flaying both hide 
and hair.” 

An six hundred crowns,” said Isaac, ‘‘ the good 
Prior might well pay to your honored valors, and never 
sit less soft in his stall.” 

Six hundred crowns,” said the leader, gravely; I 
am contented — thou hast well spoken, Isaac — six hun- 
dred crowns. It is a sentence. Sir Prior.” 

‘ ‘ A sentence ! — a sentence ! ’ ’ exclaimed the band ; 
“ Solomon had not done it better.” 

Thou hearest thy doom. Prior,” said the leader. 

‘‘Ye are mad, my masters,” said the Prior; “ where 
am I to find such a sum? If I sell the very pyx and 
candlesticks on the altar at Jorvaulx, I shall scarce raise 
the half ; and it will be necessary for that purpose that 
I go to Jorvaulx myself; ye may retain as borrows my 
two priests.” 

“ That will be but blind trust,” said the Outlaw; 
“ we will retain thee. Prior, and send them to fetch thy 
ransom. Thou shalt not want a cup of wine and a collop 
of venison the while.” 

“ Or, if so please you,” said Isaac, willing to curry 
favor with the outlaws, “ I can send to York for the six 
hundred crowns, out of certain monies in my hands, if 
18 


262 


IVANHOE 


SO be that the most reverend Prior present will grant me 
a quittance/’ 

He shall grant thee whatever thou dost list, Isaac,” 
said the Captain; and thou shalt lay down the redemp- 
tion money for Prior Aymer as well as for thyself.” 

For myself! ah, courageous sirs,” said the Jew, I 
am a broken and impoverished man; a beggar’s staff 
must be my portion through life, supposing I were to 
pay you fifty crowns. ’ ’ 

‘‘ The Prior shall judge of that matter,” replied the 
Captain — ‘‘ How say you. Father Aymer? Can the 
Jew afford a good ransom? ” 

Can he afford a ransom? ” answered the Prior. Is 
he not Isaac of York, rich enough to redeem the captivity 
of the ten tribes of Israel? But since you require me 
to put a price upon this caitiff, I tell you openly that ye 
will wrong yourselves if you take from him a penny 
under a thousand crowns.” 

‘ ‘ A sentence 1 — a sentence I ’ ’ exclaimed the chief 
Outlaw. 

‘ ‘ A sentence 1 — a sentence ! ’ ’ shouted his assessors ; 
‘‘ the Christian has shown his good nurture, and dealt 
with us more generously than the Jew.” 

‘^The God of my fathers help me! ” said the Jew; 

will ye bear .to the ground an impoverished creature? 
I am this day childless, and will ye deprive me of the 
means of livelihood ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Was not thy daughter dark-haired? ” said one of 
the outlaws ; ‘ ‘ and wore she not a veil of twisted sendal, 
broidered with silver ? ’ ’ 

“ She did! — she did! ” said the old man, trembling 
with eagerness, as formerly with fear. “ The blessing 
of Jacob be upon thee ! Canst thou tell me aught of her 
safety? ” 


THE RANSOM 


263 


It was she, then/’ said the yeoman, who was car- 
ried off by the proud Templar, when he broke through 
our ranks on yester-even. I had drawn my bow to send 
a shaft after him, but spared him even for the sake of 
the damsel, who I feared might take harm from the 
arrow. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Oh! ” answered the Jew, I would to God thou 
hadst shot, though the arrow had pierced her bosom! 
Ichabod ! Ichabod ! the glory hath departed from my 
house! ” 

‘‘ Friends,” said the Chief, looking round, ‘‘ the old 
man is but a Jew, natheless his grief touches me. — Deal 
uprightly with us, Isaac — will paying this ransom of a 
thousand crowns leave thee altogether penniless? ” 
Isaac, recalled to think of his worldly goods, the love 
of which, by dint of inveterate habit, contended even 
with his parental affection, grew pale, stammered, and 
could not deny there might be some small surplus. 

Well, go to, what though there be,” said the Outlaw, 
we will not reckon with thee too closely. Without 
treasure thou mayest as well hope to redeem thy child 
from the clutches of Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert as to 
shoot a stag-royal with a headless shaft. — We will take 
thee at the same ransom with Prior Aymer, or rather at 
one hundred crowns lower, which hundred crowns shall 
be mine own peculiar loss, and not light upon this wor- 
shipful community; and so we shall avoid the heinous 
offense of rating a Jew merchant as high as a Christian 
prelate, and thou wilt have six hundred crowns remain- 
ing to treat for thy daughter’s ransom. Templars love 
the glitter of silver shekels. Hasten to make thy crowns 
chink in the ear of De Bois-Guilbert. Thou wilt find 
him, as our scouts have brought notice, at the next Pre- 
eeptory house of his Order. ’ ’ 


264 


IVANHOE 


Jew/’ said Prior Aymer, ‘‘ I grieve for the maiden, 
for she is of fair and comely countenance — I beheld her 
in the lists of Ashby. Also Brian de Bois-Guilbert is one 
with whom I may do much — bethink thee how thou 
mayest deserve my good word with him. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Alas! alas! ” said the Jew, on every hand the 
spoilers arise against me — I am given as a prey unto the 
Assyrian, and a prey unto him of Egypt.” Isaac 
groaned deeply, and began to wring his hands, and to 
relapse into his state of desolation and despair. But 
the leader of the yeomen led him aside. 

Advise thee well, Isaac,” said Locksley, what thou 
wilt do in this matter; my counsel to thee is to make a 
friend of this churchman. He is vain, Isaac, and he is 
covetous; at least he needs money to supply his profu- 
sion. Thou canst easily gratify his greed ; for think not 
that I am blinded by thy pretexts of poverty. I am in- 
timately acquainted, Isaac, with the very iron chest in 
which thou dost keep thy money-bags. — What! know 
I not the great stone beneath the apple tree, that leads 
into the vaulted chamber under thy garden at York? ” 
The Jew grew as pale as death. But fear nothing from 
me,” continued the yeoman, for we are of old ac- 
quainted. Dost thou not remember the sick yeoman 
whom thy fair daughter Eebecca redeemed from the 
gyves at York, and kept in thy house till his health 
was restored, when thou didst dismiss him recovered, and 
with a piece of money? Usurer as thou art, thou didst 
never place coin at better interest than that poor silver 
mark, for it has this day saved thee five hundred 
crowns.” 

And thou art he whom we called Dieeon Bend-the- 
Bow,” said Isaac; I thought ever I knew the accent of 
thy voice.” 


THE RANSOM 


265 


I am Bend-the-Bow/’ said the Captain, '' and Locks- 
ley, and have a good name besides all these.’’ 

‘ ‘ But thou art mistaken, good Bend-the-Bow, concern- 
ing that same vaulted apartment. So help me heaven, 
as there is nought in it but some merchandises which I 
will gladly part with to you — one hundred yards of Lin- 
coln green to make doublets to thy men, and a hundred 
staves of Spanish yew to make bows, and one hundred 
silken bowstrings, tough, round, and sound — these will 
I send thee for thy good-will, honest Diccon, an thou 
wilt keep silence about the vault, my good Diccon. ’ ’ 

Silent as a dormouse,” said the Outlaw; and never 
trust me but I am grieved for thy daughter. But I may 
not help it. The Templar ’s lances are too strong for my 
archery in the open field — they would scatter us like 
dust. Had I but known it was Rebecca when she was 
borne off, something might have been done; but now 
thou must needs proceed by policy. Come, shall I treat 
for thee with the Prior? ” 

In God’s name, Diccon, an thou canst, aid me to re- 
cover the child of my bosom! ” 

Do not thou interrupt me with thine ill-timed ava- 
rice,” said the Outlaw, ‘‘ and I will deal with him in thy 
behalf.” 

He then turned from the Jew, who followed him, 
however, as closely as his shadow. 

‘‘ Prior Aymer,” said the Captain, come apart with 
me under this tree. I have heard thou dost love a 
brace of good dogs and a fieet horse, and it may well be 
that, loving things which are costly to come by, thou 
hatest not a purse of gold. But I have never heard that 
thou didst love oppression or cruelty. — Now, here is 
Isaac willing to give thee the means of pleasure and 
pastime in a bag containing one hundred marks of silver, 


266 


IVANHOE 


if thy intercession with thine ally the Templar shall avail 
to procure the freedom of his daughter. ’ ’ 

And what pledge am I to have for all this? ’’ said 
the Prior. 

When Isaac returns successful through your media- 
tion,’’ said the Outlaw, I swear by St. Hubert, I will see 
that he pays thee the money in good silver, or I will 
reckon with him for it in such sort, he had better have 
paid twenty such sums. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Well then, Jew,” said Aymer, since I must needs 
meddle in this matter, let me have the use of thy writing- 
tablets. ’ ’ 

The Prior sat down, and at great leisure indicted an 
epistle to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and having carefully 
sealed up the tablets, delivered them to the Jew, saying: 

This will be thy safe-conduct to the Preceptory of 
Templestowe, and, as I think, is most likely to accom- 
plish the delivery of thy daughter, if it be well backed 
with proffers of advantage and commodity at thine own 
hand; for, trust me well, the good knight Bois-Guilbert 
is of their confraternity that do nought for nought. ’ ’ 

“ Well, Prior,” said the Outlaw, I will detain thee 
no longer here than to give the Jew a quittance for the 
six hundred crowns at which thy ransom is fixed — I 
accept of him for my paymaster; and if I hear that ye 
boggle at allowing him in his accompts the sum so paid 
by him, St. Mary refuse me, an I burn not the abbey 
over thine head, though I hang ten years the sooner ! ’ ’ 

With a much worse grace than that wherewith he had 
penned the letter to Bois-Guilbert, the Prior wrote an 
acquittance, discharging Isaac of York of six hundred 
crowns, advanced to him in his need for acquittal of his 
ransom, and faithfully promising to hold true compt 
with him for that sum, 


THE RANSOM 


267 


The Prior rode off with considerably less pomp, and 
in a much more apostolical condition, so far as worldly 
matters were concerned, than he had exhibited before this 
encounter. 

It remained that the Jew should produce some security 
for the ransom which he was to pay on the Prior’s ac- 
count, as well as upon his own. He gave, accordingly, 
an order sealed with his signet, to a brother of his tribe 
at York, requiring him to pay to the bearer the sum of 
a thousand crowns, and to deliver certain merchandises 
specified in the note. 

‘ ‘ My brother Sheva, ’ ’ he said, groaning deeply, ‘ ‘ hath 
the key of my warehouses. ’ ’ 

And of the vaulted chamber,” whispered Locksley. 

No, no — may Heaven forefend ! ” said Isaac ; evil 
is the hour that let any one whomsoever into that 
secret! ” 

It is safe with me,” said the Outlaw, so be that 
this thy scroll produce the sum therein nominated and 
set down. — But what now, Isaac? art dead? art stupe- 
fied? hath the payment of a thousand crowns put thy 
daughter’s peril out of thy mind? ” 

The Jew started to his feet: ‘‘ No, Diccon, no — I 
will presently set forth. — Farewell, thou whom I may 
not call good, and dare not and will not call evil.” 

Yet, ere Isaac departed, the outlaw Chief bestowed on 
him this parting advice: Be liberal of thine offers, 

Isaac, and spare not thy purse for thy daughter’s safety. 
Credit me, that the gold thou shalt spare in her cause 
will hereafter give thee as much agony as if it were 
poured molten down thy throat.” 

Isaac acquiesced with a deep groan, and set forth on 
his journey, accompanied by two tall foresters, who were 
to be his guides, and also his guards, through the wood. 


268 


IVANHOE 


The Black Knight, who had seen with no small inter- 
est these various proceedings, now took his leave of the 
Outlaw in turn; nor could he avoid expressing his sur- 
prise at having witnessed so much of civil policy amongst 
persons cast out from all the ordinary protection and 
influence of the laws. 

‘‘ Good fruit. Sir Knight,’’ said the yeoman, will 
sometimes grow on a sorry tree ; and evil times are not 
always productive of evil alone and unmixed. You are 
welcome to form your judgment of me, and I may use 
my conjectures touching you, though neither of our 
shafts may hit the mark they are shot at.” 

It may be we shall meet hereafter with less of con- 
cealment on either side,” said the Knight. — Mean- 
while we part friends, do we not? ” 

‘‘ There is my hand upon it,” said Locksley; and I 
will call it the hand of a true Englishman, though an 
outlaw for the present.” 

And there is mine in return,” said the Knight, and 
I hold it honored by being clasped with yours. For he 
that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, 
deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, 
but for the evil which he forbears. Fare thee well, gal- 
lant Outlaw! ” 

Thus parted that fair fellowship ; and he of the Fetter- 
lock, mounting upon his strong war-horse, rode off 
through the forest. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 

The ponderous castle-bell of the Preceptory of Tem- 
plestowe had tolled the point of noon, when Rebecca 
heard a trampling of feet upon the private stair which 
led to her place of confinement. The door of the cham- 
ber was unlocked, and Conrade Mont-Fitchet and the 
Preceptor Malvoisin entered, attended by four warders 
clothed in black, and bearing halberds. 

^ ‘ Daughter of an accursed race ! ’ ’ said the Preceptor, 
arise and follow us.’’ 

Whither,” said Rebecca, and for what purpose? ” 

Damsel,” answered Conrade, it is not for thee to 
question, but to obey. Nevertheless, be it known to thee 
that thou art to be brought before the tribunal of the 
Grand Master of our Holy Order, there to answer for 
thine offenses.” 

May the God of Abraham be praised ! ” said Rebecca, 
folding her hands devoutly; the name of a judge, 
though an enemy to my people, is to me as the name of 
a protector. Most willingly do I follow thee ; permit me 
only to wrap my veil around my head.” 

They descended the stair with slow and solemn step, 
traversed a long gallery, and entered the great hall. The 
lower part of this apartment was filled with squires and 
yeomen, who made way, not without some difficulty, 
for Rebecca to move forward to the seat appointed for 
her. As she passed through the crowd, her arms folded 
269 


270 


IVANHOE 


and her head depressed, a scrap of paper was thrust into 
her hand, which she received almost unconsciously, and 
continued to hold without examining its« contents. 

The tribunal erected for the trial of the innocent and 
unhappy Rebecca, occupied the dais or elevated part of 
the upper end of the great hall. On an elevated seat, di- 
rectly before the accused, sat the Grand Master of the 
Temple, in full and ample robes of flowing white, holding 
in his hand the mystic staff which bore the symbol of the 
Order. At his feet was placed a table, occupied by two 
scribes, chaplains of the Order, whose duty it was to re- 
duce to formal record the proceedings of the day. The 
Preceptors, of whom there were four present, occupied 
seats lower in height and somewhat drawn back behind 
that of their superior; and the knights who enjoyed no 
such rank in the Order were placed on benches still 
lower. Behind them, but still upon the dais or elevated 
portion of the hall, stood the esquires of the Order, in 
white dresses of an inferior quality. 

The remaining and lower part of the hall was filled 
with guards, holding partisans, and with other attendants 
whom curiosity had drawn thither, to see at once a Grand 
Master and a Jewish sorceress. By far the greater part 
of those inferior persons were, in one rank or other, con- 
nected with the Order ; but peasants from the neighbor- 
ing country were not refused admittance. 

The Grand Master glanced his eye slowly around the 
circle, and observed that the seat of one of the Precep- 
tors was vacant. Brian de Bois-Guilbert, by whom it had 
been occupied, had left his place, and was now standing 
near the extreme corner of one of the benches occupied 
by the Knights Companions of the Temple, one hand ex- 
tending his long mantle, so as in some degree to hide his 
face ; while the other held his cross-handled sword; with 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


271 


the point of which, sheathed as it was, he was slowly 
drawing lines upon the oaken floor. 

' ‘ Unhappy man ! ’ ' said the Grand Master, after fa- 
voring him with a glance of compassion. Thou seest, 
Conrade, how this holy work distresses him. Seest thou 
he cannot look upon us; he cannot look upon her; and 
who knows by what impulse from his tormentor his hand 
forms these cabalistic lines upon the floor? It may be 
our life and safety are thus aimed at ; but we spit at and 
defy the foul enemy.’’ 

The Grand Master then raised his voice and addressed 
the assembly. Reverend and valiant men, Knights, 
Preceptors, and Companions of this Holy Order, my 
brethren and my children! — you also, well-born and 
pious esquires, who aspire to wear this Holy Cross 1 — 
and you also, Christian brethren, of every degree 1 — be 
it known to you, that we have summoned to our presence a 
Jewish woman, by name Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of 
York — a woman infamous for sorceries and for witch- 
eries; whereby she hath maddened the blood, and be- 
sotted the brain, not of a churl, but of a Knight — not 
of a Knight Companion, but of a Preceptor of our Order, 
first in honor as in place. Our brother, Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert, is well known to ourselves, and to all degrees 
who now hear me, as a true and zealous champion of the 
Cross, by whose arm many deeds of valor have been 
wrought in the Holy Land. Neither have our brother’s 
sagacity and prudence been less in repute among his 
brethren than his valor and discipline; insomuch that 
knights, both in eastern and western lands, have named 
De Bois-Guilbert as one who may well be put in nomina- 
tion as successor to this baton, when it shall please 
Heaven to release us from the toil of bearing it. If we 
were told that such a man, so honored, and so honorable, 


272 


IVANHOE 


suddenly casting away regard for his character, his vows, 
his brethren, and his prospects, had associated to himself 
a Jewish damsel, defended her person in preference to 
his own, and, finally, was so utterly blinded and besotted 
by his folly, as to bring her even to one of our own Pre- 
ceptories, what should we say but that the noble knight 
was possessed by some evil demon, or infiuenced by some 
wicked spell ? — If we could suppose it otherwise, think 
not rank, valor, high repute, or any earthly consideration, 
should prevent us from visiting him with punishment, 
that the evil thing might be removed. Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert should be cut off and cast out from our congre- 
gation, were he the right hand and right eye thereof. ’ ’ 

He paused. A low murmur went through the assem- 
bly, who anxiously waited what the Grand Master was 
next to propose. 

‘ ^ Such, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ and so great should indeed be the 
punishment of a Knight Templar who willfully offended 
against the rules of his Order in such weighty points. 
But if, by means of charms and of spells, Satan had ob- 
tained dominion over the Knight, we are then rather to la- 
ment than chastise his backsliding ; and, imposing on him 
only such penance as may purify him from his iniquity, 
we are to turn the full edge of our indignation upon the 
accursed instrument, which had so well-nigh occasioned 
his utter falling away. — Stand forth, therefore, and 
bear witness, ye who have witnessed these unhappy doings, 
that we may judge of the sum and bearing thereof ; and 
judge whether our justice may be satisfied with the pun- 
ishment of this infidel woman, or if we must go on, with 
a bleeding heart, to the further proceeding against our 
brother. ’ ’ 

Several witnesses were called upon to prove the risks 
to which Bois-Guilbert exposed himself in endeavoring 


THE TRIAL OP REBECCA 


273 


to save Rebecca from the blazing castle, and his neglect 
of his personal defense in attending to her safety. The 
men gave these details with the exaggeration common 
to vulgar minds which have been strongly excited by 
any remarkable event. Thus the dangers which Bois- 
Guilbert surmounted, in themselves sufficiently great, 
became portentous in their narrative. 

The Preceptor of Templestowe was then called on to 
describe the manner in which Bois-Guilbert and the 
Jewess arrived at the Preceptory. The evidence of 
Malvoisin was skillfully guarded. But while he appar- 
ently studied to spare the feelings of Bois-Guilbert, he 
threw in, from time to time, such hints as seemed to 
infer that he labored under some temporary alienation 
of mind. 

‘‘ Were it not well, brethren,’’ said the Grand Master, 
that we examine something into the former life and 
conversation of this woman, especially that we may dis- 
cover whether she be one likely to use magical charms 
and spells, since the truths which we have heard may 
well incline us to suppose that in this unhappy course 
our erring brother has been acted upon by some infernal 
enticement and delusion? ” 

Herman of Goodalricke was the fourth Preceptor pres- 
ent ; the other three were Conrade, Malvoisin, and Bois- 
Guilbert himself. Herman was an ancient warrior, 
whose face was marked with scars inflicted by the saber 
of the Moslemah, and had great rank and consideration 
among his brethren. He arose and bowed to the Grand 
Master, who instantly granted him license of speech. 

I would crave to know, most reverend father, of our 
valiant brother, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, what he says to 
these wondrous accusations? ” 

Bois-Guilbert made an effort to suppress his rising 


274 


IVANHOE 


scorn and indignation, the expression of which, he was 
well aware, would little avail him. “ Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert,’’ he answered, replies not, most reverend 
father, to such wild and vague charges. If his honor 
be impeached, he will defend it with his body, and 
with that sword which has often fought for Christen- 
dom. ’ ’ 

‘‘ We forgive thee. Brother Brian, said the Grand 
Master; ‘‘ though that thou hast boasted thy warlike 
achievements before us is a glorifying of thine own deeds, 
and cometh of the Enemy, who tempteth us to exalt our 
own worship. But thou hast our pardon, judging thou 
speakest less of thine own suggestion than from the im- 
pulse of him whom, by Heaven ’s leave, we will quell and 
drive forth from our assembly. And now, ’ ’ pursued the 
Grand Master, ‘‘ since our Brother of Goodalricke ’s 
question has been thus imperfectly answered, pursue we 
our quest, brethren, and with our patron’s assistance we 
will search to the bottom this mystery of iniquity. Let 
those who have aught to witness of the life and conversa- 
tion of this Jewish woman stand forth before us.” 

There was a bustle in the lower part of the hall, and 
when the Grand Master inquired the reason, it was re- 
plied, there was in the crowd a bedridden man, whom the 
prisoner had restored to the perfect use of his limbs, by a 
miraculous balsam. 

The poor peasant, a Saxon by birth, was dragged for- 
ward to the bar, terrified at the penal consequepces which 
he might have incurred by the guilt of having been cured 
of the palsy by a Jewish damsel. Perfectly cured he cer- 
tainly was not, for he supported himself forward on 
crutches to give evidence. Most unwilling was his testi- 
mony, and given with many tears ; but he admitted that 
two years since, when residing at York, he was suddenly 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


275 


afflicted with a sore disease, while laboring for Isaac the 
rich Jew, in his vocation of a joiner; that he had been 
unable to stir from his bed until the remedies applied by 
Rebecca ’s directions, and especially a warming and spicy- 
smelling balsam, had in some degree restored him to the 
use of his limbs. Moreover, he said, she had given him 
a pot of that precious ointment, and furnished him with 
a piece of^ money withal, to return to the house of his 
father, near to Templestowe. ‘ ‘ And may it please your 
gracious Reverence,’’ said the man, I cannot think the 
damsel meant harm by me, though she hath the ill hap 
to be a J ewess ; for even when I used her remedy, I said 
the Pater and the Creed, and it never operated a whit 
less kindly. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Peace, slave, ’ ’ said the Grand Master. ‘ ‘ I tell thee, 
the fiend can impose diseases for the very purpose of re- 
moving them, in order to bring into credit some diabol- 
ical fashion of cure. Hast thou that unguent of which 
thou speakest? ” 

The peasant, fumbling in his bosom with a trembling 
hand, produced a small box, bearing some Hebrew char- 
acters on the lid, which was, with most of the audience, 
a sure proof that the devil had stood apothecary. Beau- 
manoir, after crossing himself, took the box into his hand, 
and, learned in most of the Eastern tongues, read with 
ease the motto on the lid: The Lion of the Tribe of 

Judah hath conquered.” Strange powers of Sath- 
anas,” said he, which can convert Scripture into 
blasphemy, mingling poison with our necessary food ! — 
Is there no leech here who can tell us the ingredients of 
this mystic unguent? ” 

Two mediciners, as they called themselves, the one a 
monk, the other a barber, appeared, and avouched they 
knew nothing of the materials, excepting that they sa- 


276 


IVANHOE 


vored of myrrh and camphire, which they took to be 
Oriental herbs. But with the true professional hatred to 
a successful practitioner of their art, they insinuated that, 
since the medicine was beyond their own knowledge, it 
must necessarily have been compounded from an unlaw- 
ful and magical pharmacopoeia. When this medical re- 
search was ended, the Saxon peasant desired humbly to 
have back the medicine which he had found so salu- 
tary; but the Grand Master frowned severely at the 
request. What is thy name, fellow? ” said he to the 
cripple. 

‘‘ Higg, the son of Snell,” answered the peasant. 

Then, Higg, son of Snell,” said the Grand Master, 

I tell thee, it is better to be bedridden than to accept 
the benefit of unbelievers’ medicine that thou mayest 
arise and walk; better to despoil infidels of their treas- 
ure by the strong hand than to accept of them benevo- 
lent gifts, or do them service for wages. Go thou, and 
do as I have said. ’ ’ 

“ Alack,” said the peasant, an it shall not displease 
your Eeverence, the lesson comes too late for me, for I 
am but a maimed man ; but I will tell my two brethren, 
who serve the rich rabbi Nathan ben Samuel, that your 
mastership says it is more lawful to rob him than to ren- 
der him faithful service.” 

Out with the prating villain! ” said Beaumanoir, 
who was not prepared to refute this practical applica- 
tion of his general maxim. 

Higg, the son of Snell, withdrew into the crowd, but, 
interested in the fate of his benefactress, lingered until 
he should learn her doom, even at the risk of again en- 
countering the frown of that severe judge, the terror of 
which withered his very heart within him. 

At this period of the trial, the Grand Master com- 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


277 


manded Eebecca to unveil herself. Opening her lips for 
the first time, she replied patiently, but with dignity, 
that it was not the wont of the daughters of her people 
to uncover their faces when alone in an assembly of 
strangers. The sweet tones of her voice, and the soft- 
ness of her reply, impressed on the audience a sentiment 
of pity and sympathy. But Beaumanoir, in whose mind 
the suppression of each feeling of humanity which could 
interfere with his imagined duty, was a virtue of itself, 
repeated his commands that his victim should be un- 
veiled. The guards were about to remove her veil ac- 
cordingly, when she stood up before the Grand Master, 
and said, ‘ ‘ Nay, but for the love of your own daughters 
— alas,’’ she said, recollecting herself, ye have no 
daughters ! — yet for the remembrance of your mothers, 
for the love of your sisters, and of female decency, let 
me not be thus handled in your presence ; it suits not a 
maiden to be disrobed by such rude grooms. I will obey 
you,” she added, with an expression of patient sorrow in 
her voice, which had almost melted the heart of Beau- 
manoir himself; ye are elders among your people, and 
at your command I will show the features of an ill-fated 
maiden.” 

She withdrew her veil, and looked on them with a 
countenance in which bashfulness contended with dig- 
nity. Her exceeding beauty excited a murmur of sur- 
prise. But Higg, the son of Snell, felt most deeply the 
effect produced by the sight of the countenance of his 
benefactress. Let me go forth,” he said to the ward- 
ers at the door of the hall — ‘ ‘ let me go forth ! To look 
at her again will kill me, for I have had a share in mur- 
dering her.” 

“ Peace, poor man,” said Eebecca, when she heard his 
exclamation — thou hast done me no harm by speaking 
19 


278 


IVANHOE 


the truth; thou canst not aid me by thy complaints or 
lamentations. Peace, I pray thee — go home and save 
thyself.^’ 

Higg was about to be thrust out by the compassion of 
the warders, who were apprehensive lest his clamorous 
grief should draw upon them reprehension, and upon 
himself punishment. But he promised to be silent, and 
was permitted to remain. Two men-at-arms, with whom 
Albert Malvoisin had not failed to communicate upon the 
import of their testimony, were now called forward. 
Both were hardened and inflexible villains, and they de- 
livered, with a precision which would have seemed sus- 
picious to more impartial judges, circumstances either 
altogether flctitious, or trivial, and natural in themselves, 
but rendered pregnant with suspicion by the exaggerated 
manner in which they were told, and the sinister com- 
mentary which the witnesses added to the facts. Their 
evidence set forth that Rebecca was heard to mutter to 
herself in an unknown tongue ; that the songs she sung 
by fits were of a strangely sweet sound, which made the 
ears of the hearer tingle and his heart throb; that she 
spoke at times to herself, and seemed to look upward for 
a reply ; that her garments were of a strange and mystic 
form, unlike those of women of good repute; that she 
had rings impressed with cabalistical devices, and that 
strange characters were broidered on her veil. All these 
circumstances, so natural and so trivial, were gravely 
listened to as proofs, or at least as affording strong sus- 
picions, that Rebecca had unlawful correspondence with 
mystical powers. 

But there was less equivocal testimony, which the 
credulity of the assembly, or of the greater part, greedily 
swallowed, however incredible. One of the soldiers had 
seen her work a cure upon a wounded man brought with 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


279 


them to the castle of Torquilstone. She did, he said, 
make certain signs upon the wound, and repeated certain 
mysterious words, which he blessed God he understood 
not, when the iron head of a square cross-bow bolt dis- 
engaged itself from the wound, the bleeding was 
stanched, the wound was closed, and the dying man was, 
within the quarter of an hour, walking upon the ram- 
parts, and assisting the witness in managing a mangonel, 
or machine for hurling stones. This legend was proba- 
bly founded upon the fact that Rebecca had attended on 
the wounded Ivanhoe when in the castle of Torquilstone. 
But it was the more difficult to dispute the accuracy of 
the witness as, in order to produce real evidence in sup- 
port of his verbal testimony, he drew from his pouch the 
very bolt head which, according to his story, had been 
miraculously extracted from the wound; and as the iron 
weighed a full ounce, it completely confirmed the tale, 
however marvelous. 

His comrade had been a witness from a neighboring 
battlement of the scene betwixt Rebecca and Bois-Guil- 
bert, when she was upon the point of precipitating her- 
self from the top of the tower. Not to be behind his 
companion, this fellow stated that he had seen Rebecca 
perch herself upon the parapet of the turret, and there 
take the form of a milk-white swan, under which appear- 
ance she flitted three times round the castle of Torquil- 
stone; then again settle on the turret, and once more 
assume the female form. 

Less than one half of this weighty evidence would 
have been sufficient to convict any old woman, poor and 
ugly, even though she had not been a Jewess. United 
with that fatal circumstance, the body of proof was too 
weighty for Rebecca’s youth, though combined with the 
most exquisite beauty. 


280 


IVANHOE 


The Grand Master had collected the suffrages, and 
now in a solemn tone demanded of Rebecca what she had 
to say against the sentence of condemnation which he 
was about to pronounce. 

‘‘ To invoke your pity,” said the lovely Jewess, with a 
voice somewhat tremulous with emotion, ‘‘ would, I am 
aware, be as useless as I should hold it mean. To state 
that to relieve the sick and wounded of another religion 
cannot be displeasing to the acknowledged Founder of 
both our faiths, were also unavailing ; to plead that many 
things which these men (whom may Heaven pardon!) 
have spoken against me are impossible, would avail me 
but little, since you believe in their possibility ; and still 
less would it advantage me to explain that the peculiar- 
ities of my dress, language, and manners are those of my 
people — I had well-nigh said of my country, but, alas I 
we have no country. Nor will I even vindicate myself 
at the expense of my oppressor, who stands there listen- 
ing to the fictions and surmises which seem to convert the 
tyrant into the victim. — God be judge between him and 
me! but rather would I submit to ten such deaths as 
your pleasure may denounce against me than listen to the 
suit which that man of Belial has urged upon me — 
friendless, defenseless, and his prisoner. But he is of your 
own faith, and his lightest affirmance would weigh down 
the most solemn protestations of the distressed Jewess. 
I will not therefore return to himself the charge brought 
against me; but to himself — yes, Brian de Bois-Guil- 
bert, to thyself I appeal, whether these accusations are 
not false? as monstrous and calumnious as they are 
deadly? ” 

There was a pause ; all eyes turned to Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert. He was silent. 

‘ ‘ Speak, ’ ’ she said, ‘ ‘ if thou art a man ; if thou art a 


THE TRIAL OP REBECCA 


281 


Christian, speak! I conjure thee, by the habit which 
thou dost wear — by the name thou dost inherit — by 
the knighthood thou dost vaunt — by the honor of thy 
mother — by the tomb and the bones of thy father — I 
conjure thee to say, are these things true? ’’ 

Answer her. Brother,’’ said the Grand Master, if 
the Enemy with whom thou dost wrestle will give thee 
power. ’ ’ 

In fact, Bois-Guilbert seemed agitated by contending 
passions, which almost convulsed his features, and it was 
with a constrained voice that at last he replied, looking 
at Rebecca: ‘‘ The scroll! — the scroll! ” 

Aye,” said Beaumanoir, this is indeed testimony! 
The victim of her witcheries can only name the fatal 
scroll, the spell inscribed on which is, doubtless, the 
cause of his silence.” 

But Rebecca put another interpretation on the words 
extorted as it were from Bois-Guilbert, and glancing her 
eye upon the slip of parchment which she continued to 
hold in her hand, she read written thereupon in the 
Arabian character, Demand a Champion! ” The mur- 
muring commentary which ran through the assembly at 
the strange reply of Bois-Guilbert gave Rebecca leisure 
to examine and instantly to destroy the scroll unob- 
served. When the whisper had ceased, the Grand Mas- 
ter spoke. 

‘‘ Rebecca, thou canst derive no benefit from the evi- 
dence of this unhappy knight, for whom, as we well per- 
ceive, the Enemy is yet too powerful. Hast thou aught 
else to say? ” 

‘‘ There is yet one chance of life left to me,” said Re- 
becca, even by your own fierce laws. Life has been 
miserable — miserable, at least, of late — but I will not 
cast away the gift of God while He affords me the means 


282 


IVANHOE 


of defending it. I deny this charge — I maintain my 
innocence, and I declare the falsehood of this accusation 
— I challenge the privilege of trial by combat, and will 
appear by my champion. ’ ’ 

“ And who, Kebecca,’’ replied the Grand Master, 

will lay lance in rest for a sorceress? who will be the 
champion of a Jewess? ’’ 

‘‘ God will raise me up a champion,” said Rebecca. 
“ It cannot be that in merry England — the hospitable, 
the generous, the free, where so many are ready to peril 
their lives for honor — there will not be found one to 
fight for justice. But it is enough that I challenge the 
trial by combat — there lies my gage.” 

She took her embroidered glove from her hand, and 
fiung it down before the Grand Master with an air of 
mingled simplicity and dignity, which excited universal 
surprise and admiration. 

Even Lucas Beaumanoir himself was affected by the 
mien and appearance of Rebecca. He was not originally 
a cruel man, but his heart had been hardened by the 
ascetic life which he pursued. His features relaxed 
in their usual severity as he gazed upon the beautiful 
creature before him, alone, unfriended, and defending 
herself with so much spirit and courage. 

Give me her glove,” said Beaumanoir. This is in- 
deed,” he continued, as he looked at the flimsy texture 
and slender fingers, a slight and frail gage for a pur- 
pose so deadly ! — Seest thou, Rebecca, as tfiis thin and 
light glove of thine is to one of our heavy steel gauntlets, 
so is thy cause to that of the Temple, for it is our Order 
which thou hast defied.” 

Cast my innocence into the scale,” answered Re- 
becca, ^ ‘ and the glove of silk shall outweigh the glove of 
iron. ’ ’ 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


283 


Then thou dost persist in thy refusal to confess thy 
guilt, and in that bold challenge which thou hast 
made? ’’ 

I do persist, noble sir,’’ answered Rebecca. 

‘‘So be it then, in the name of Heaven,” said the 
Grand Master ; ‘ ‘ and may God show the right ! ’ ’ 

“ Amen,” replied the Preceptors around him, and the 
word was deeply echoed by the whole assembly. 

“ Brethren,” said Beaumanoir, “ you are aware that 
we might well have refused to this woman the benefit of 
the trial by combat — but, though a Jewess and an un- 
believer, she is also a stranger and defenseless, and God 
forbid that she should ask the benefit of our mild laws, 
and that it should be refused to her. Moreover, we are 
knights and soldiers as well as men of religion, and 
shame it were to us, upon any pretense, to refuse prof- 
fered combat. Thus, therefore, stands the case: Re- 
becca, the daughter of Isaac of York, is, by many frequent 
and suspicious circumstances, defamed of sorcery prac- 
ticed on the person of a noble knight of our Holy Order, 
and hath challenged the combat in proof of her inno- 
cence. To whom, reverend brethren, is it your opinion 
that we should deliver the gage of battle, naming him, 
at the same time, to be our champion on the field ? ’ ’ 

“ To Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whom it chiefly con- 
cerns,” said the Preceptor of Goodalricke, “ and who, 
moreover, best knows how the truth stands in this 
matter.” 

“ Thou sayest right, brother,” said the Grand Master. 
“ Albert Malvoisin, give this gage of battle to Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert. — It is our charge to thee, brother,” he 
continued, addressing himself to Bois-Guilbert, “ that 
thou do thy battle manfully, nothing doubting that the 
good cause shall triumph. — And do thou, Rebecca, at- 


284 


IVANHOE 


tend, that we assign thee the third day from the present 
to find a champion.’’ 

‘‘ That is but brief space,” answered Kebecca, ‘‘ for a 
stranger who is also of another faith, to find one who 
will do battle, wagering life and honor for her cause, 
against a knight who is called an approved soldier. ’ ’ 

‘‘We may not extend it,” answered the Grand Master ; 
“ the field must be foughten in our presence, and divers 
weighty causes call us on the fourth day from hence. ’ ’ 

“ God’s will be done! ” said Eebecca; “ I put my 
trust in Him, to whom an instant is as effectual to save 
as a whole age.” 

“ Thou hast spoken well, damsel,” said the Grand 
Master. “ It remains but to name a fitting place of 
combat, and, if it so hap, also of execution. — Where is 
the Preceptor of this house ? ’ ’ 

Albert Malvoisin, still holding Rebecca’s glove in his 
hand, was speaking to Bois-Guilbert very earnestly, but 
in a low voice. 

“ How! ” said the Grand Master, “ will he not receive 
the gage? ” 

“He will — he doth, most reverend father,” said 
Malvoisin, slipping the glove under his own mantle. 
“ And for the place of combat, I hold the fittest to be 
the lists of St. George belonging to this Preceptory, and 
used by us for military exercise.” 

“ It is well,” said the Grand Master. “ Rebecca, in 
those lists shalt thou produce thy champion ; and if thou 
failest to do so, or if thy champion shall be discomfited 
by the judgment of God, thou shalt then die the death 
of a sorceress, according to doom.” 

Rebecca spoke not, but she looked up to Heaven, and, 
folding her hands, remained for a minute without change 
of attitude. She then modestly reminded the Grand 


THE TRIAL OF REBECCA 


285 


Master that she ought to be permitted some opportunity 
of free communication with her friends, for the pur- 
pose of making her condition known to them, and 
procuring, if possible, some champion to fight in her 
behalf. 

“ It is just and lawful,’’ said the Grand Master. 

‘ ‘ Is there, ’ ’ said Kebecca, ^ ‘ any one here, who, either 
for love of a good cause or for ample hire, will do the 
errand of a distressed being? ” Eebecca stood for a few 
moments in indescribable anxiety, and then exclaimed, 
‘‘Is it really thus? — and in English land am I to be 
deprived of the poor chance of safety which remains to 
me, for want of an act of charity which would not be 
refused to the worst criminal? ” 

Higg, the son of Snell, at length replied, ‘ ‘ I am but a 
maimed man, but that I can at all stir or move was 
owing to her charitable assistance. I will do thine er- 
rand,” he added, addressing Eebecca, “ as well as a crip- 
pled object can, and happy were my limbs fieet enough 
to repair the mischief done by my tongue, Alas ! when 
I boasted of thy charity, I little thought I was leading 
thee into danger! ” 

“ God,” said Eebecca, “ is the disposer of all. To 
execute His message the snail is as sure a messenger as 
the falcon. Seek out Isaac of York — here is that will 
pay for horse and man — let him have this scroll. I 
know not if it be of Heaven the spirit which inspires me, 
but most truly do I judge that I am not to die this 
death, and that a champion will be raised up for me. 
Farewell! Life and death are in thy haste.” 

The peasant took the scroll, which contained only a 
few lines in Hebrew. Many of the crowd would have 
dissuaded him from touching a document so suspicious ; 
but Higg was resolute in the service of his benefactress. 


286 


IVANHOE 


She had saved his body, he said, and he was confident 
she did not mean to peril his soul. 

“ I will get me,’’ he said, ‘‘ my neighbor Buthan’s 
good horse, and I will be at York within as brief space 
as man and beast may.” 

But, as it fortuned, he had no occasion to go so far, for 
within a quarter of a mile from the gate of the Precep- 
tory he met with two riders whom, by their dress and 
their huge yellow caps, he knew to be Jews; and on 
approaching more nearly, he discovered that one of them 
was his ancient employer, Isaac of York. 


CHAPTER XXX 


HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE? ’’ 

When the Black Knight — for it becomes necessary to 
resume the train of his adventures — left the trysting- 
tree of the generous Outlaw, he held his way straight 
to a neighboring religious house of small extent and 
revenue, called the Priory of St. Botolph, to which the 
wounded Ivanhoe had been removed when the castle was 
taken, under the guidance of the faithful Gurth and the 
magnanimous Wamba. After long and grave commu- 
nication, messengers were despatched by the Prior in 
several directions. On the succeeding morning the 
Black Knight was about to set forth on his journey, 
accompanied by the jester, Wamba, who attended as his 
guide. 

We will meet,” he said to Ivanhoe, ‘‘ at Conings- 
burgh, the castle of the deceased Athelstane, since there 
thy father Cedric holds the funeral feast for his noble 
relation. I would see your Saxon kindred together. Sir 
Wilfred, and become better acquainted with them than 
heretofore; and it shall be my task to reconcile thee to 
thy father.” 

So saying, he took an affectionate farewell of Ivanhoe, 
who expressed an anxious desire to attend upon his de- 
liverer. But the Black Knight would not listen to the 
proposal. 

‘ ‘ Rest this day ; thou wilt have scarce strength enough 
to travel on the next. I will have no guide with me but 
287 


288 


IVANHOE 


honest Wamba, who can play priest or fool as I shall be 
most in the humor/’ 

Sir Knight of the Fetterlock, since it is your pleas- 
ure so to be distinguished, ” said Ivanhoe, I fear me 
you have chosen a talkative and a troublesome fool to be 
your guide. But he knows every path and alley in the 
woods as well as e ’er a hunter who frequents them ; and 
the poor knave, as thou hast partly seen, is as faithful 
as steel.” 

Nay,” said the Knight, ‘‘an he have the gift of 
showing my road, I shall not grumble with him that he 
desires to make it pleasant. Fare thee well, kind Wil- 
fred — I charge thee not to attempt to travel till to-mor- 
row at earliest. ’ ’ 

So saying, he extended his hand to Ivanhoe, who 
pressed it to his lips, took leave of the Prior, mounted 
his horse, and departed, with Wamba for his companion. 
Ivanhoe followed them with his eyes until they were lost 
in the shades of the surrounding forest, and then re- 
turned into the convent. 

But shortly after matin-song he requested to see the 
Prior. The old man came in haste, and inquired anx- 
iously after the state of his health. 

“ It is better,” he said, “ than my fondest hope could 
have anticipated ; either my wound has been slighter than 
the effusion of blood led me to suppose, or this balsam 
hath wrought a wonderful cure upon it. I feel already 
as if I could bear my corselet; and so much the better, 
for thoughts pass in my mind which render me unwill- 
ing to remain here longer in inactivity.” 

“ Now, the saints forbid,” said the Prior, “ that the 
son of the Saxon Cedric should leave our convent ere his 
wounds were healed! It were shame to our profession 
were we to suffer it. ’ ’ 


HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE? 


289 


Nor would I desire to leave your hospitable roof, 
venerable father/' said Ivanhoe, did I not feel myself 
able to endure the journey, and compelled to undertake 
it." 

And what can have urged you to so sudden a de- 
parture? " said the Prior. 

Have you never, holy father," answered the Knight, 
‘ ‘ felt an apprehension of approaching evil, for which you 
in vain attempted to assign a cause ? — have you never 
found your mind darkened, like the sunny landscape, by 
the sudden cloud, which augurs a coming tempest? — 
And thinkest thou not that such impulses are deserving 
of attention, as being the hints of our guardian spirits 
that danger is impending? " 

‘‘ I may not deny," said the Prior, crossing himself, 
that such things have been, and have been of Heaven. 
But thou, wounded as thou art, what avails it thou 
shouldst follow the steps of him whom thou couldst not 
aid, were he to be assaulted? " 

‘‘ Prior," said Ivanhoe, thou dost mistake — I am 
stout enough to exchange buffets with any who will chal- 
lenge me to such a traffic — But were it otherwise, may I 
not aid him, were he in danger, by other means than by 
force of arms? It is but too well known that the Sax- 
ons love not the Norman race, and who knows what may 
be the issue if he break in upon them when their hearts 
are irritated by the death of Athelstane, and their heads 
heated by the carousal in which they will indulge them- 
selves? I hold his entrance among them at such a mo- 
ment most perilous, and I am resolved to share or avert 
the danger; which, that I may the better do, I would 
crave of thee the use of some palfrey whose pace may be 
softer than that of my war-horse." 

‘ ‘ Surely, ' ' said the worthy churchman ; ‘ ‘ you shall 


290 


IVANHOE 


have mine own ambling jennet, and I would it ambled as 
easy for your sake as that of the Abbot of St. Alban’s. 
Yet this I will say for ]\Ialkin, for so I call her, that un- 
less you were to borrow a ride on the juggler’s steed that 
paces a hornpipe amongst the eggs, you could not go a 
journey on a creature so gentle and smooth-paced.” 

‘‘ I pray you, reverend father,” said Ivanhoe, let 
Malkin be got ready instantly, and bid Gurth attend me 
with mine arms.” 

Ivanhoe now descended the stairs more hastily and 
easily than his wound promised, and having leapt on 
his mare, and commanded his squire (for such Gurth 
now called himself) to keep close by his side, he followed 
the track of the Black Knight into the forest. 

In the meantime, the Black Champion and his guide 
were pacing at their leisure through the recesses of the 
forest; the good Knight whiles humming to. himself the 
lay of some enamored troubadour, sometimes encouraging 
by questions the prating disposition of his attendant, so 
that their dialogue formed a whimsical mixture of song 
and jest. You are then to imagine this Knight, such as 
we have already described him, strong of person, tall, 
broad-shouldered, and large of bone, mounted on his 
mighty black charger, which seemed made on purpose to 
bear his weight, so easily he paced forward under it, hav- 
ing the visor of his helmet raised, in order to admit free- 
dom of breath, yet keeping the beaver, or under part, 
closed, so that his features could be but imperfectly dis- 
tinguished. But his ruddy, embrowned cheek-bones 
could be plainly seen, and the large and bright blue eyes, 
that flashed from under the dark shade of the raised 
visor; and the whole gesture and look of the champion 
expressed careless gayety and fearless confidence. 


“HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE?” 291 

The Jester wore his usual fantastic habit, but late acci- 
dents had led him to adopt a good cutting falchion, in- 
stead of his wooden sword, with a shield to match it ; of 
both which weapons he had, notwithstanding his profes- 
sion, shown himself a skillful master during the storming 
of Torquilstone. 

Indeed, the infirmity of Wamba’s brain consisted 
chiefly in a kind of impatient irritability, which suf- 
fered him not long to remain quiet in any posture, or 
adhere to any certain train of ideas, although he was for 
a few minutes alert enough in performing any immediate 
task, or in apprehending any immediate topic. 

‘‘ The merry men of the forest,’’ said Wamba, ‘‘ set 
off the building of a cottage with the burning of a castle, 
the thatching of a choir against the robbing of a church, 
the setting afree a poor prisoner against the murder of 
a proud sheriff, or, to come nearer to our point, the 
deliverance of a Saxon franklin against the burning alive 
of a Norman baron. Gentle thieves they are, in short, 
and courteous robbers. And yet,” said Wamba, coming 
close up to the Knight’s side, ‘‘ there be companions who 
are far more dangerous for travelers to meet than yon- 
der outlaws.” 

And who may they be, for you have neither bears 
nor wolves, I trow? ” said the Knight. 

Marry, sir, but we have Malvoisin’s men-at-arms,” 
said Wamba; and let me tell you that, in time of civil 
war, a half-score of these is worth a band of wolves at 
any time. They are now expecting their harvest, and 
are reinforced with the soldiers that escaped from Tor- 
quilstone; so that, should we meet with a band of them, 
we are like to pay for our feats of arms. — Now, I pray 
you, Sir Knight, what would you do if we met two of 
them? ” 


292 


IVANHOE 


Pin the villains to the earth with my lance, Wamba, 
if they offered us any impediment. ’ ’ 

But what if there were four of them? 

‘‘ They should drink of the same cup,’’ answered the 
Knight. 

‘‘ What if six,” continued Wamba, “ and we as we 
now are, barely two ; would you not remember Locksley ’s 
horn? ” 

‘‘ What! sound for aid,” exclaimed the Knight, 
‘‘ against a score of such rascaille as these, whom one 
good knight could drive before him, as the wind drives 
the withered leaves? ” 

Nay, then,” said Wamba, I will pray you for a 
close sight of that same horn that hath so powerful a 
breath.” 

The Knight undid the clasp of the baldric, and in- 
dulged his fellow-traveler, who immediately hung the 
bugle round his own neck. 

Tra-lira-la, ” said he, whistling the notes; ‘‘ nay, I 
know my gamut as well as another. ’ ’ 

How mean you, knave? ” said the Knight; restore 
me the bugle.” 

Content you. Sir Knight, it is in safe keeping. 
When Valor and Polly travel, Polly should bear the horn, 
because she can blow the best.” 

‘‘ Nay, but, rogue,” said the Black Knight, this ex- 
ceedeth thy license — Beware ye tamper not with my 
patience.” 

‘‘ Urge me not with violence. Sir Knight,” said the 
Jester, keeping at a distance from the impatient cham- 
pion, ‘‘ or Polly will show a clean pair of heels, and 
leave Valor to find out his way through the wood as best 
he may.” 

Nay, thou hast hit me there,” said the Knight; 


HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE?” 


293 


and, sooth to say, I have little time to jangle with thee. 
Keep the horn an thou wilt, but let us proceed on our 
journey.’’ 

‘‘You will not harm me, then? ” said Wamba. 

‘ ‘ I tell thee no, thou knave ! ’ ’ 

“ Aye, but pledge me your knightly word for it,” con- 
tinued Wamba, as he approached with great caution. 

‘ ‘ My knightly word I pledge ; only come on with thy 
foolish self. ’ ’ 

“ Nay, then. Valor and Folly are once more boon 
companions,” said the Jester, coming up frankly to the 
Knight’s side; “ but, in truth, I love not such buffets as 
that you bestowed on the burly Friar, when his holiness 
rolled on the green like a king of the nine-pins. And 
now that Folly wears the horn, let Valor rouse himself 
and shake his mane; for, if I mistake not, there are 
company in yonder brake that are on the lookout for 
us. ’ ’ 

“ What makes thee judge so? ” said the Knight. 

“ Because I have twice or thrice noticed the glance of 
a morion from among the green leaves. Had they 
been honest men, they had kept the path. But yonder 
thicket is a choice chapel for the clerks of St. Nicholas.” 

‘ ‘ By my faith, ’ ’ said the Knight, closing his visor, ‘ ‘ I 
think thou be’st in the right on’t.” 

And in good time did he close it, for three arrows flew 
at the same instant from the suspected spot against his 
head and breast, one of which would have penetrated to 
the brain, had it not been turned aside by the steel visor. 
The other two were averted by the gorget, and by the 
shield which hung around his neck. 

“ Thanks, trusty armorer,” said the Knight. 
“Wamba, let us close with them,” — and he rode 
straight to the thicket. He was met by six or seven 
20 


294 


IVANHOE 


men-at-arms, who ran against him with their lances at 
full career. Three of the weapons struck against him, 
and splintered with as little effect as if they had been 
driven against a tower of steel. The Black Knight ^s 
eyes seemed to flash fire even through the aperture of 
his visor. He raised himself in his stirrups with an air 
of inexpressible dignity, and exclaimed, ‘‘ What means 
this, my masters ? ^ ’ — The men made no other reply than 
by drawing their swords and attacking him on every side, 
crying, ‘ ‘ Die, tyrant ! ’ ^ 

Ha! St. Edward! Ha! St. George! said the Black 
Knight, striking down a man at every invocation ; ^ ‘ have 
we traitors here ? ’ ^ 

His opponents, desperate as they were, bore back from 
an arm which carried death in every blow, and it seemed 
as if the terror of his single strength was about to gain 
the battle against such odds, when a knight in blue 
armor, who had hitherto kept himself behind the other 
assailants, spurred forward with his lance, and taking 
aim, not at the rider but at the steed, wounded the noble 
animal mortally. 

‘‘ That was a felon stroke! exclaimed the Black 
Knight, as the steed fell to the earth, bearing his rider 
along with him. 

And at this moment Wamba winded the bugle, for the 
whole had passed so speedily that he had not time to do 
so sooner. The sudden sound made the murderers bear 
back once more, and Wamba, though so imperfectly 
weaponed, did not hesitate to rush in and assist the 
Black Knight to rise. 

‘‘ Shame on ye, false cowards! ’’ exclaimed he in the 
blue harness, who seemed to lead the assailants, ‘‘ do 
ye fly from the empty blast of a horn blown by a 
Jester? ’’ 


HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE? 


295 


Animated by his words, they attacked the Black Knight 
anew, whose best refuge was now to place his back against 
an oak, and defend himself with his sword. The felon 
knight, who had taken another spear, watching the mo- 
ment when his formidable antagonist was most closely 
pressed, galloped against him in hopes to nail him with 
his lance against the tree, when his purpose was again 
intercepted by Wamba. The Jester, making up by agil- 
ity the want of strength, and little noticed by the men-at- 
arms, who were busied in their more important object, 
hovered on the skirts of the fight, and effectually checked 
the fatal career of the Blue Knight, by hamstringing his 
horse with a stroke of his sword. TIorse and man went 
to the ground; yet the situation of the Knight of the 
Fetterlock continued very precarious, as he was pressed 
close by several men completely armed, and began to be 
fatigued by the violent exertions necessary to defend 
himself on so many points at nearly the same moment, 
when a gray-goose shaft suddenly stretched on the earth 
one of the most formidable of his assailants, and a band 
of yeomen broke forth from the glade, headed by Locks- 
ley and the jovial Friar, who, taking ready and effectual 
part in the fray, soon disposed of the ruffians, all of 
whom lay on the spot dead or mortally wounded. The 
Black Knight thanked his deliverers with a dignity they 
had not observed in his former bearing, which hitherto 
had seemed rather that of a blunt, bold soldier than of a 
person of exalted rank. 

It concerns me much,’’ he said, ‘‘ even before I ex- 
press my full gratitude to my ready friends, to discover, 
if I may, who have been my unprovoked enemies. — 
Open the visor of that Blue Knight, Wamba, who seems 
the chief of these villains.” 

The Jester instantly made up to the leader of the 


296 


IVANHOE 


assassins, wlio, bruised by his fall, and entangled under 
the wounded steed, lay incapable either of flight or 
resistance. 

‘‘ Come, valiant sir,” said Wamba, ‘‘ I must be your 
armorer as well as your equerry — I have dismounted 
you, and now I will unhelm you.” 

So saying, with no very gentle hand he undid the 
helmet of the Blue Knight, which, rolling to a distance 
on the grass, displayed to the Knight of the Fetterlock 
grizzled locks, and a countenance he did not expect to 
have seen under such circumstances. 

Waldemar Pitzurse!” he said in astonishment; 
^ ‘ what could urge one of thy rank and seeming worth to 
so foul an undertaking ? ’ ’ 

Richard,” said the captive Knight, looking up to 
him, thou knowest little of mankind, if thou knowest 
not to what ambition and revenge can lead every child 
of Adam.” 

‘‘ Revenge! ” answered the Black Knight; I never 
wronged thee — On me thou hast nought to revenge. ’ ’ 
My daughter, Richard, whose alliance thou didst 
scorn — was that no injury to a Norman, whose blood is 
noble as thine own? ” 

‘‘ Thy daughter! ” replied the Black Knight. A 
proper cause of enmity, and followed up to a bloody 
issue ! — Stand back, my masters, I would speak to him 
alone — And now, Waldemar Pitzurse, say me the truth : 
confess who set thee on this traitorous deed. ’ ’ 

Thy father’s son,” answered Waldemar, ‘‘ who, in 
so doing, did but avenge on thee thy disobedience to thy 
father. ’ ’ 

Richard’s eyes sparkled with indignation, but his 
better nature overcame it. He pressed his hand against 
his brow, and remained .an instant gazing on the face of 


HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE? 


297 


the humbled baron, in whose features pride was contend- 
ing with shame. 

Thou dost not ask thy life, Waldemar? ’’ said the 
King. 

He that is in the lion’s clutch,” answered Fitzurse, 
knows it were needless.” 

‘ ^ Take it, then, unasked, ’ ’ said Richard ; ‘ ^ the lion 
preys not on prostrate carcasses — Take thy life, but 
with this condition, that in three days thou shalt leave 
England, and go to hide thine infamy in thy Norman 
castle, and that thou wilt never mention the name of 
John of Anjou as connected with thy felony. If thou 
art found on English ground after the space I have al- 
lotted thee, thou diest — or if thou breathest aught that 
can attaint the honor of my house, by St. George! not 
the altar itself shall be a sanctuary. I will hang thee 
out to feed the ravens from the very pinnacle of thine 
own castle. Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, for 
I see your yeomen have caught those which were run- 
ning loose, and let him depart unharmed.” 

But that I judge I listen to a voice whose behests 
must not be disputed, ’ ’ answered the yeoman, ^ ‘ I would 
send a shaft after the skulking villain that should spare 
him the labor of a long journey.” 

Thou bearest an English heart, Locksley,” said the 
Black Knight, and well dost judge thou art the more 
bound to obey my behest — I am Richard of England 1 ” 
At these words, pronounced in a tone of majesty 
suited to the high rank, and no less distinguished char- 
acter, of Coeur-de-Lion, the yeomen at once kneeled down 
before him, and at the same time tendered their alle- 
giance, and implored pardon for their offenses. 

Rise, my friends,” said Richard, in a gracious tone. 
Your misdemeanors, whether in forest or field, have 


298 


IVANHOE 


been atoned by the loyal services you rendered my dis- 
tressed subjects before the walls of Torquilstone, and the 
rescue you have this day afforded to your sovereign. 
Arise, my liegemen, and be good subjects in future. — 
And thou, brave Locksley — ” 

Call me no longer Locksley, my Liege, but know me 
under the name which, I fear, fame hath blown too 
widely not to have reached even your royal ears — I am 
Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest.” 

‘‘ King of outlaws and Prince of good fellows! ” said 
the King, who hath not heard a name that has been 
borne as far as Palestine? But be assured, brave Out- 
law, that no deed done in our absence, and in the turbu- 
lent times to which it hath given rise, shall be remem- 
bered to thy disadvantage.” 

I confess! I confess! ” exclaimed, in a submissive 
tone, a voice near the King ’s side ; ‘ ‘ I confess my deadly 
treason, and pray leave to have absolution before I am 
led to execution! ” 

Richard looked around, and beheld the jovial Friar on 
his knees, telling his rosary, while his quarter-staff, which 
had not been idle during the skirmish, lay on the grass 
beside him. His countenance was gathered so as he 
thought might best express the most profound contri- 
tion, his eyes being turned up, and the corners of his 
mouth drawn down, as Wamba expressed it, like the 
tassels at the mouth of a purse. Yet this demure affec- 
tation of extreme penitence was whimsically belied by 
a ludicrous meaning which lurked in his huge features, 
and seemed to pronounce his fear and repentance alike 
hypocritical. 

For what art thou cast down, mad priest? ” said 
Richard; ‘‘ art thou afraid thy diocesan should learn 
how truly thou dost serve Our Lady and St. Dunstan? 





“ ‘ Rise, my friends,’ said Richard.” 









HAVE WE TRAITORS HERE? 


299 


Tush, man ! fear it not ; Eichard of England betrays no 
secrets that pass over the flagon.’’ 

Nay, most gracious sovereign,” answered the her- 
mit (well known to the curious in penny histories of 
Eobin Hood by the name of Friar Tuck), it is not the 
crosier I fear, but the scepter. Alas! that my sacrile- 
gious fist should ever have been applied to the ear of the 
Lord’s anointed! ” 

' ‘ Ha ! ha ! ” said Eichard, ‘ ‘ sits the wind there ? — 
In truth, I had forgotten the buffet, though mine ear 
sung after it for a whole day. But if the cuff was fairly 
given, I will be judged by the good men around, if it 
was not as well repaid — or, if thou thinkest I still owe 
thee aught, and wilt stand forth for another counter- 
buff—” 

By no means,” replied Friar Tuck, I had mine 
own returned, and with usury — may your majesty ever 
pay your debts as fully! ” 

If I could do so with cuffs,” said the King, my 
creditors should have little reason to complain of an 
empty exchequer.” 

And yet,” said the Friar, resuming his demure, 
hypocritical countenance, I know not what penance I 
ought to perform for that most sacrilegious blow ! ’ ’ 

Speak no more of it, brother,” said the King; aft- 
er having stood so many cuffs from Paynims and misbe- 
lievers, I were void of reason to quarrel with the buffet 
of a clerk so holy as he of Copmanhurst. And the holy 
clerk shall have a grant of vert and venison in my woods 
of Wharncliffe. Mark, however, I will but assign thee 
three bucks every season; but if that do not prove an 
apology for thy slaying thirty, I am no Christian Knight 
nor true King. And as venison is but dry food, our 
cellarer shall have orders to deliver to thee a butt of sack, 


300 


IVANHOE 


a runlet of Malvoisie, and three hogsheads of ale of the 
first strike, yearly. If that will not quench thy thirst, 
thou must come to court, and become acquainted with 
my butler.” 

The Friar bowed profoundly, and fell into the rear. 

At the same time, two additional personages appeared 
on the scene. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


ROBIN HOOD OP SHERWOOD FOREST 

The new-comers were Wilfred of Ivanhoe, on the Prior 
of Botolph’s palfrey, and Gurth, who attended him, on 
the knight ^s own war-horse. The astonishment of Ivan- 
hoe was beyond bounds when he saw his master be- 
sprinkled with blood, and six or seven dead bodies lying 
around in the little glade in which the battle had taken 
place. Nor was he less surprised to see Richard sur- 
rounded by so many silvan attendants, the outlaws, as 
they seemed to be, of the forest, and a perilous retinue 
therefore for a prince. He hesitated whether to address 
the King as the Black Knight-errant, or in what other 
manner to demean himself towards him. Richard saw 
his embarrassment. 

Pear not, Wilfred,” he said, to address Richard 
Plantagenet as himself, since thou seest him in the com- 
pany of true English hearts, although it may be they 
have been urged a few steps aside by warm English 
blood.” 

Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe,” said the gallant Outlaw, 
stepping forward, ‘‘ my assurances can add nothing to 
those of our sovereign ; yet, let me say somewhat proud- 
ly, that of men who have suffered much, he hath 
no truer subjects than those who now stand around 
him.” 

‘‘ I cannot doubt it, brave man,” said Wilfred, since 
thou art of the number. But what mean these marks of 
301 


302 


IVANHOE 


death and danger — these slain men, and the bloody 
armor of my prince ? ’ ’ 

^ ‘ Treason hath been with us, Ivanhoe, ’ ’ said the King ; 
but, thanks to these brave men, treason hath met its 
meed. But, now I bethink me, thou too art a traitor,’’ 
said Richard, smiling — ‘‘ a most disobedient traitor; 
for were not our orders positive that thou shouldst 
repose thyself at St. Botolph’s until thy wound was 
healed? ” 

It is healed,” said Ivanhoe — it is not of more con- 
sequence than the scratch of a bodkin. But why — oh 
why, noble Prince, will you thus vex the hearts of your 
faithful servants, and expose your life by lonely journeys 
and rash adventures, as if it were of no more value than 
that of a mere knight-errant, who has no interest but 
what lance and sword may procure him ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ And Richard Plantagenet, ’ ’ said the King, ‘ ‘ desires 
no more fame than his good lance and sword may acquire 
him; and Richard Plantagenet is prouder of achieving 
an adventure, with only his good sword and his good arm 
to speed, than if he led to battle an host of an hundred 
thousand armed men.” 

But your kingdom, my Liege,” said Ivanhoe — 
your kingdom is threatened with dissolution and civil 
war — your subjects are menaced with every species of 
evil, if deprived of their sovereign in some of those dan- 
gers which it is your daily pleasure to incur, and from 
which you have but this moment narrowly escaped.” 

Ho! ho! my kingdom and my subjects! ” answered 
Richard, impatiently; I tell thee. Sir Wilfred, the best 
of them are most willing to repay my follies in kind. — 
For example, my very faithful servant, Wilfred of Ivan- 
hoe, will not obey my positive commands, and yet reads 
his King a homily, because he does not walk exactly by 


ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST 


303 


his advice. Which of us has most reason to upbraid the 
other ? — Yet forgive me, my faithful Wilfred. The time 
I have si)ent, and am yet to spend, in concealment, is, 
as I explained to thee at St. Botolph’s, necessary to give 
my friends and faithful nobles time to assemble their 
forces. Too sudden an appearance would subject me to 
dangers other than my lance and sword, though backed 
by the bow of bold Eobin, or the quarter-staff of Friar 
Tuck, and the horn of the sage Wamba, may be able to 
rescue me from.’’ 

Wilfred bowed in submission ; while Eichard, rejoiced 
at having silenced his counselor, though his heart ac- 
knowledged the justice of the charge he had brought 
against him, went on in conversation with Eobin Hood. 

King of Outlaws,” he said, ‘‘ have you no refresh- 
ment to offer to your brother sovereign ? for these dead 
knaves have found me both in exercise and appetite.” 

‘‘ In troth,” replied the Outlaw, for I scorn to lie to 
your Grace, our larder is chiefly supplied with — ” He 
stopped, and was somewhat embarrassed. 

With venison, I suppose?” said Eichard, gayly; 
‘ ‘ better food at need there can be none ; and truly, if a 
King will not remain at home and slay his own game, 
methinks he should not brawl too loud if he finds it killed 
to his hand.” 

If your Grace, then,” said Eobin, will again honor 
with your presence one of Eobin Hood’s places of ren- 
dezvous, the venison shall not be lacking; and a stoup 
of ale, and it may be a cup of reasonably good wine, to 
relish it withal.” 

Beneath a huge oak-tree the silvan repast was hastily 
prepared for the King of England, surrounded by men 
outlaws to his government, but who now formed his court 
and his guard. As the flagon went round, the rough 


304 


IVANHOE 


foresters soon lost their awe for the presence of Majesty. 
The merry King, nothing heeding his dignity any more 
than his company, laughed, quaffed, and jested among 
the jolly band. The natural and rough sense of Robin 
Hood led him to be desirous that the scene should be 
closed ere anything should occur to disturb its harmony. 

We are honored,’’ he said to Ivanhoe, apart, ‘‘ by the 
presence of our gallant sovereign ; yet I would not that 
he dallied with time which the circumstances of his king- 
dom may render precious.” 

It is well and wisely spoken, brave Robin Hood,” 
said Wilfred, apart; and know, moreover, that they 
who jest with Majesty, even in its gayest mood, are but 
toying with the lion’s whelp, which, on slight provoca- 
tion, uses both fangs and claws. ’ ’ 

‘‘You have touched the very cause of my fear,” said 
the Outlaw. “ My men are rough by practice and na- 
ture; the King is hasty as well as good-humored; nor 
know I how soon cause of offense may arise, or how 
warmly it may be received — it is time this revel were 
broken off.” 

“ It must be by your management, then, gallant yeo- 
man,” said Ivanhoe; “ for each hint I have essayed to 
give him serves only to induce him to prolong it. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Must I so soon risk the pardon and favor of my sov- 
ereign? ” said Robin Hood, pausing for an instant; 
“ but, by St. Christopher, it shall be so. I were unde- 
serving his grace did I not peril it for his good. — Here, 
Scathlock, get thee behind yonder thicket, and wind me 
a Norman blast on thy bugle, and without an instant’s 
delay, on peril of your life.” 

Scathlock obeyed his captain, and in less than five 
minutes the revelers were startled by the sound of his 
horn. 


ROBTN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST 


305 


It is the bugle of Malvoisin/’ said the jMiller, start- 
ing to his feet, and seizing his bow. The Friar dropped 
the flagon, and grasped his quarter-staff. "Wamba 
stopped short in the midst of a jest, and betook himself 
to sword and target. All the others stood to their 
weapons. 

Men of their precarious course of life change readily 
from the banquet to the battle; and to Richard the ex- 
change seemed but a succession of pleasure. He called 
for his helmet and the most cumbrous parts of his 
armor, which he had laid aside; and while Gurth was 
putting them on, he laid his strict injunctions on Wil- 
fred, under pain of his highest displeasure, not to en- 
gage in the skirmish which he supposed was approach- 
ing. 

Thou hast fought for me an hundred times, Wilfred, 
and I have seen it. Thou shalt this day look on, and see 
how Richard will flght for his friend and liegeman. ’ ’ 

In the meantime, Robin Hood had sent off several of 
his followers in different directions, as if to reconnoiter 
the enemy; and when he saw the company effectually 
broken up, he approached Richard, who was now com- 
pletely armed, and, kneeling down on one knee, craved 
pardon of his sovereign. 

“ For what, good yeoman? ’’ said Richard, somewhat 
impatiently. ‘ ‘ Have we not already granted thee a full 
pardon for all transgressions? Thinkest thou our word 
is a feather, to be blown backward and forward between 
us? Thou eanst not have had time to commit any new 
offense since that time ? ’ ’ 

Aye, but I have though,’’ answered the yeoman, 
if it be an offense to deceive my prince for his own ad- 
vantage. The bugle you have heard was none of Mal- 
voisin’s, but blown by my direction, to break off the 


306 


IVANHOE 


banquet, lest it trenched upon hours of dearer import 
than to be thus dallied with.’’ 

He then rose from his knee, folded his arms on his 
bosom, and, in a manner rather respectful than submis- 
sive, awaited the answer of the King, like one who is 
conscious he may have given offense, yet is confident in 
the rectitude of his motive. The blood rushed in anger 
to the countenance of Kichard ; but it was the first tran- 
sient emotion, and his sense of justice instantly subdued 
it. 

The King of Sherwood,” he said, grudges his veni- 
son and his wine-flask to the King of England! It is 
well, bold Eobin I but when you come to see me in merry 
London, I trust to be a less niggard host. Thou art 
right, however, good fellow. Let us therefore to horse 
and away. Wilfred has been impatient this hour.” 

Robin Hood assured them that he had detached a party 
in the direction of the road they were to pass, who would 
not fail to discover and apprise them of any secret 
ambuscade ; and that he had little doubt they would find 
the ways secure. The Outlaw’s opinion proved true; 
and the King, attended by Ivanhoe, Gurth and Wamba, 
arrived without any interruption within view of the Cas- 
tle of Coningsburgh, while the sun was yet in the 
horizon. 

A huge black banner, which floated from the top of the 
tower, announced that the obsequies of the late owner 
were still in the act of being solemnized. Above the gate 
was another banner, on which the flgure of a white horse, 
rudely painted, indicated the nation and rank of the 
deceased, by the well-known symbol of Hengist and his 
Saxon warriors. All around the castle was a scene of 
busy commotion; for such funeral banquets were times 
of general and profuse hospitality, which not only every 


ROBIN HOOD OP SHERWOOD FOREST 


307 


one who could claim the most distant connection with the 
deceased, but all passengers whatsoever, were invited to 
partake. 

The seneschal or steward deigned not to take notice of 
the groups of inferior guests who were perpetually enter- 
ing and withdrawing, unless so far as was necessary to 
preserve order; nevertheless, he was struck by the good 
mien of the Monarch and Ivanhoe, more especially as 
he imagined the features of the latter were familiar to 
him. Besides, the approach of two knights, for such 
their dress bespoke them, was a rare event at a Saxon 
solemnity, and could not but be regarded as a sort of 
honor to the deceased and his family. And in his sable 
dress, and holding in his hand his white wand of office, 
this important personage made way through the miscel- 
laneous assemblage of guests, thus conducting Richard 
and Ivanhoe to the entrance of the tower. Gurth and 
Wamba speedily found acquaintances in the court-yard, 
nor presumed to intrude themselves any farther until 
their presence should be required. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


athelstane’s obsequies 

The good King Richard, followed by his faithful Ivan- 
hoe, was ushered into the round apartment which occu- 
pies the whole of the third story of Coningsburgh Castle. 
Wilfred, by the difficulties of the ascent, gained time to 
muffle his face in his mantle, as it had been held expe- 
dient that he should not present himself to his father 
until the King should give him the signal. 

There were assembled in this apartment, around a 
large oaken table, about a dozen of the most distin- 
guished representatives of the Saxon families in the 
adjacent counties. The downcast and sorrowful looks of 
these venerable men, their silence and their mournful 
posture, formed a strong contrast to the levity of the 
revelers on the outside of the castle. 

Cedric, seated in equal rank among his countrymen, 
seemed yet, by common consent, to act as chief of the 
assembly. Upon the entrance of Richard (known to him 
only as the valorous Knight of the Fetterlock) he arose 
gravely, and gave him welcome by the ordinary saluta- 
tion, Wassail! ’’ raising at the same time a goblet to 
his head. The King, no stranger to the customs of his 
English subjects, returned the greeting with the appro- 
priate words, Drink hail ! and partook of a cup which 
was handed to him by the sewer. The same courtesy was 
offered to Ivanhoe, who pledged his father in silence, 
308 


ATHELSTANE’S OBSEQUIES 


309 


supplying the usual speech by an inclination of his head, 
lest his voice should be recognized. 

When this introductory ceremony was performed, Ced- 
ric arose, and, extending his hand to Kichard, conducted 
him into a small and very rude chapel, which was exca- 
vated, as it were, out of one of the external buttresses. 
As there was no opening, saving a very narrow loophole, 
the place would have been nearly quite dark but for two 
torches, which showed, by a red and smoky light, the 
arched roof and naked walls, the rude altar of stone, and 
the crucifix of the same material. 

Before this altar was placed a bier, and on each side 
of this bier kneeled three priests, who told their beads, 
and muttered their prayers, with the greatest signs of 
external devotion. Richard and Wilfred followed Ced- 
ric’s example in devoutly crossing themselves, and mut- 
tering a brief prayer for the weal of the departed soul. 

This act of pious charity performed, Cedric again mo- 
tioned them to follow him, gliding over the stone floor 
with a noiseless tread ; and, after ascending a few steps, 
he opened with great caution the door of a small oratory, 
which adjoined the chapel. It was about eight feet 
square, hollowed, like the chapel itself, out of the thick- 
ness of the wall; and the loophole which enlightened it 
being to the west, and widening considerably as it sloped 
inward, a beam of the setting sun found its way into its 
dark recess, and showed a female of a dignified mien, 
and whose countenance retained the marked remains of 
majestic beauty. 

“ Noble Edith,’’ said Cedric, after having stood a mo- 
ment silent, as if to give Richard and Wilfred time to 
look upon the lady of the mansion, these are worthy 
strangers come to take a part in thy sorrows. And this, 
in especial, is the valiant knight who fought so bravely 
21 


310 


IVANHOE 


for the deliverance of him for whom we this day mourn/’ 
His bravery has my thanks/’ returned the lady; 
‘ ‘ although it be the will of Heaven that it should be dis- 
played in vain. I thank, too, his courtesy, and that of 
his companion, which hath brought them hither to be- 
hold the widow of Adeling, the mother of Athelstane, 
in her deep hour of sorrow and lamentation. To your 
care, kind kinsman, I entrust them, satisfied that they 
will want no hospitality which these sad walls can yet 
afford.” 

The guests bowed deeply to the mourning parent, and 
withdrew with their hospitable guide. 

Another winding stair conducted them to an apart- 
ment of the same size with that which they had first 
entered, occupying, indeed, the story immediately above. 
From this room, ere yet the door was opened, proceeded 
a low and melancholy strain of vocal music. When 
they entered, they found themselves in the presence of 
about twenty matrons and maidens of distinguished 
Saxon lineage. Four maidens, Eowena leading the 
choir, raised a hymn for the soul of the deceased. 

While this dirge was sung, in a low and melancholy 
tone, by the female choristers, the others were divided 
into two bands, of which one was engaged in bedecking, 
with such embroidery as their skill and taste could com- 
pass, a large silken pall, destined to cover the bier of 
Athelstane, while the others busied themselves in select- 
ing, from baskets of flowers placed before them, garlands, 
which they intended for the same mournful purpose. 
Rowena paid her greeting to her deliverer with a graceful 
courtesy. Her demeanor was serious, but not dejected ; 
and it may be doubted whether thoughts of Ivanhoe, and 
the uncertainty of his fate, did not claim as great a share 
in her gravity as the death of her kinsman. 


ATHELSTANE’S OBSEQUIES 


311 


To Cedric, however, who, as we have observed, was 
not remarkably clear-sighted on such occasions, the sor- 
row of his ward seemed so much deeper than any of the 
other maidens, that he deemed it proper to whisper the 
explanation, — ‘‘ She was the affianced bride of the noble 
Athelstane.’’ — It may be doubted whether this commu- 
nication went a far way to increase Wilfred’s disposition 
to sympathize with the mourners of Coningsburgh. 

Having thus formally introduced the guests to the dif- 
ferent chambers in which the obsequies of Athelstane 
were celebrated under different forms, Cedric conducted 
them into a small room, destined, as he informed them, 
for the exclusive accommodation of honorable guests, 
whose more slight connection with the deceased might 
render them unwilling to join those who were immedi- 
ately affected by the unhappy event. He assured them 
of every accommodation, and was about to withdraw 
when the Black Knight took his hand. 

I crave to remind you, noble thane,” he said, ‘‘ that 
when we last parted you promised, for the service I had 
the fortune to render you, to grant me a boon.” 

It is granted ere named, noble Knight,” said Cedric ; 

yet, at this sad moment — ” 

‘‘ Of that also,” said the King, ‘‘ I have bethought me ; 
but my time is brief; neither does it seem to me unfit 
that, when closing the grave on the noble Athelstane, 
we should deposit therein certain prejudices and hasty 
opinions.” 

Sir Knight of the Fetterlock,” said Cedric, coloring, 
and interrupting the King in his turn, “ I trust your 
boon regards yourself and no other; for in that which 
concerns the honor of my house, it is scarce fitting that 
a stranger should mingle.” 

Nor do I wish to mingle,” said the King, mildly, 


312 


IVANHOE 


‘ ‘ unless in so far as you will admit me to have an inter- 
est. As yet you have known me but as the Black Knight 
of the Fetterlock — Know me now as Kichard Plan- 
tagenet. ’ ’ 

“ Kichard of Anjou! ’’ exclaimed Cedric, stepping 
backward with the utmost astonishment, 

‘‘No, noble Cedric — Richard of England! — whose 
deepest interest — whose deepest wish, is to see her sons 
united with each other. And how now, worthy thane! 
hast thou no knee for thy prince? ” 

“ To Norman blood,’’ said Cedric, “ it hath never 
bended.” 

“ Reserve thine homage then,” said the Monarch, 
“ until I shall prove my right to it by my equal protec- 
tion of Normans and English.” 

“ Prince,” answered Cedric, “ I have ever done jus- 
tice to thy bravery and thy worth. Nor am I ignorant 
of thy claim to the crown through thy descent from 
Matilda, niece to Edgar Atheling, and daughter to Mal- 
colm of Scotland. But Matilda, though of the royal 
Saxon blood, was not the heir to the monarchy.” 

“ I will not dispute my title with thee, noble thane,” 
said Richard calmly; “ but I will bid thee look around 
thee, and see where thou wilt find another to be put into 
the scale against it.” 

“ And hast thou wandered hither. Prince, to tell me 
so? ” said Cedric — “ to upbraid me with the ruin of my 
race, ere the grave has closed o ’er the last scion of Saxon 
royalty? ” His countenance darkened as he spoke. 
“ It was boldly — it was rashly done! ” 

“Not so, by the holy rood!” replied the King; 
“ it was done in the frank confidence which one 
brave man may repose in another, without a shadow of 
danger. ’ ’ 


ATHELSTANE’S OBSEQUIES 


313 


Thou sayest well, Sir King — for King I own thou 
art, and wilt be, despite of my feeble opposition.” 

‘ ^ And now to my boon, ’ ^ said the King, ‘ ^ which I ask 
not with one jot the less confidence, that thou hast re- 
fused to acknowledge my lawful sovereignty. I require 
of thee, as a man of thy word, on pain of being held 
faithless, man-sworn, and worthless, to forgive and re- 
ceive to thy paternal affection the good knight, Wilfred 
of Ivanhoe. In this reconciliation thou wilt own I have 
an interest — the happiness of my friend, and the quell- 
ing of dissension among my faithful people.” 

And this is Wilfred! ” said Cedric, pointing to his 

son. 

My father! — my father! ” said Ivanhoe, prostrat- 
ing himself at Cedric’s feet, grant me thy forgive- 
ness! ” 

Thou hast it, my son,” said Cedric, raising him up. 
‘ ‘ The son of Hereward knows how to keep his word, even 
when it has been passed to a Norman. Thou art about 
to speak,” he added, sternly, and I guess the topic. 
The Lady Eowena must complete two years’ mourning, 
as for a betrothed husband — all our Saxon ancestors 
would disown us were we to treat of a new union for her 
ere the grave of him she should have wedded — him so 
much the most worthy of her hand by birth and ancestry 
— is yet closed. The ghost of Athelstane himself would 
burst his bloody cerements, and stand before us to forbid 
such dishonor to his memory.” 

It seemed as if Cedric’s words had raised a specter: 
for scarce had he uttered them ere the door flew open, 
and Athelstane, arrayed in the garments of the grave, 
stood before them, pale, haggard, and like something 
arisen from the dead ! 

In the meantime a horrible noise was heard below 


314 


IVANHOE 


stairs, some crying, ^ ‘ Secure the treacherous monks ! ’ ’ — 
others, ‘‘ Down with them into the dungeon! ’’ — others, 
‘ ‘ Pitch them from the highest battlements 1 ’ ’ 

‘‘ If thou art mortal, speak! ” said Cedric — if a 
departed spirit, say for what cause thou dost revisit us, 
or if I can do aught that can set thy spirit at repose. — 
Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ I will,” said the specter, very composedly, ‘‘ when I 
have collected breath, and when you give me time. — 
Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be 
who has fed on bread and water for three days, which 
seem three ages.” 

<< Why, noble Athelstane,” said the Black Knight, I 
myself saw you struck down by the fierce Templar to- 
wards the end of the storm at Torquilstone, and, as I 
thought, and Wamba reported, your skull was cloven 
through the teeth. ’ ’ 

‘‘You thought amiss. Sir Knight,” said Athelstane, 
“ and Wamba lied. My teeth are in good order, and that 
my supper shall presently find. No thanks to the Tem- 
plar, though, whose sword turned in his hand, so that the 
blade struck me flatlings, being averted by the handle of 
the good mace with which I warded the blow. Down I 
went, stunned, indeed, but unwounded. I never recov- 
ered my senses until I found myself in a cofim — an 
open one, by good luck ! — placed before the altar of the 
church of St. Edmund ’s. I sneezed repeatedly — groaned 
— awakened, and would have arisen, when the Sacristan 
and Abbot, full of terror, came running at the noise, sur- 
prised, doubtless, and no way pleased, to find the man 
alive whose heirs they had proposed themselves to be. I 
asked for wine — they gave me some, but it must have 
been highly medicated, for I slept yet more deeply than 
before, and awakened not for many hours. I found my 


ATHELSTANE’S OBSEQUIES 


315 


arms swathed down, my feet tied so fast that mine ankles 
ache at the very remembrance ; the place was utterly dark 
— the oubliette, as I suppose, of their accursed convent. 
I had strange thoughts of what had befallen me, when 
the door of my dungeon creaked, and two villain 
monks entered. They would have persuaded me I was 
in purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy, short- 
breathed voice of the Father Abbot. — St. Jeremy! how 
different from that tone with which he used to ask me 
for another slice of the haunch ! — A barley loaf and a 
pitcher of water — that they gave me, the niggardly 
traitors. 

‘‘ I should have been there still, had not some stir in 
the convent, which I find was their procession hitherward 
to eat my funeral feast, when they well knew how and 
where I had been buried alive, summoned the swarm out 
of their hive. I waited long for food ; no wonder — the 
gouty Sacristan was even too busy with his own prov- 
ender to mind mine. At length down he came, with an 
unstable step and a strong flavor of wine and spices about 
his person. Good cheer had opened his heart, for he left 
me a nook of pasty and a flask of wine instead of my 
former fare. I ate, drank, and was invigorated; when, 
to add to my good luck, the Sacristan, too totty to dis- 
charge his duty of turnkey fitly, locked the door beside the 
staple, so that it fell ajar. The light, the food, the wine, 
set my invention to work. The staple to which my 
chains were fixed was more rusted than I or the villain 
Abbot had supposed. Even iron could not remain 
without consuming in the damps of that infernal 
dungeon. 

Finding myself freed from the staple, I dragged 
myself upstairs as well as a man loaded with shackles, 
and emaciated with fasting, might ; and after much grop- 


316 


IVANHOE 


ing about, I was at length directed, by the sound of a 
jolly roundelay, to the apartment where the worthy Sac- 
ristan, an it please ye, was holding a deviPs mass with 
a huge, beetle-browed, broad-shouldered brother of the 
gray-frock and cowl, who looked much more like a thief 
than a clergyman. I burst in upon them. Both stood 
aghast ; but when I knocked down the Sacristan with my 
fist, the other fellow, his pot-companion, fetched a blow 
at me with a huge quarter-staff. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ This must be our Friar Tuck, for a count ’s ransom, ’ ’ 
said Kichard, looking at Ivanhoe. 

He may be the devil, an he will,’’ said Athelstane. 
‘‘ Fortunately, he missed Ihe aim; and on my approach- 
ing to grapple with him, took to his heels and ran for it. 
I failed not to set my own heels at liberty by means of the 
fetter-key, which hung among others at the sexton’s 
belt, pouched some baked meat and a leathern bottle of 
wine, with which the two venerable brethren had been 
regaling, went to the stable, and found in a private stall 
mine own best palfrey, which, doubtless, had been set 
apart for the holy Father Abbot’s particular use. 
Hither I came with all the speed the beast could com- 
pass — man and mother’s son flying before me wherever 
I came, taking me for a specter. I did but disclose my- 
self to my mother, and eat a hasty morsel, ere I came in 
quest of you, my noble friend.” 

And you have found me,” said Cedric, ‘‘ ready to 
resume our brave projects of honor and liberty. I tell 
thee, never will dawn a morrow so auspicious as the next, 
for the deliverance of the noble Saxon race.” 

Talk not to me of delivering any one,” said Athel- 
stane; ‘‘it is well I am delivered myself. I am more 
intent on punishing that villain Abbot. He shall hang 
on the top of this Castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope 


ATHELSTANE’S OBSEQUIES 


317 


and stole ; and if the stairs be too straight to admit his fat 
carcass, I will have him craned up from without/^ 

‘ ^ For shame, noble Athelstane, ’ ’ said Cedric ; ‘ ‘ forget 
such wretches in the career of glory which lies open 
before thee. Tell this Norman prince, Richard of Anjou, 
that, lion-hearted as he is, he shall not hold undisputed 
the throne of Alfred, while a male descendant of the 
Holy Confessor lives to dispute it.’’ 

‘ ‘ How ! ’ ’ said Athelstane, ‘ ‘ is this the noble King 
Richard? ” 

‘‘It is Richard Plantagenet himself,” said Cedric; 
‘ ‘ yet I need not remind thee that, coming hither a guest 
of free-will, he may neither be injured nor detained 
prisoner — thou well knowest thy duty to him as his 
host. ’ ’ 

“ Aye, by my faith ! ” said Athelstane ; “ and my duty 
as a subject besides, for I here tender him my allegiance, 
heart and hand.” 

“ My son,” said Edith, “ think on thy royal rights! ” 

“ Think on the freedom of England, degenerate 
prince ! ’ ’ said Cedric. 

“ Mother and friend,” said Athelstane, a truce to 
your upbraidings! Bread and water and a dungeon 
are marvelous mortifiers of ambition, and I rise from the 
tomb a wiser man than I descended into it. One half 
of those vain follies were puffed into mine ear by that 
perfidious Abbot Wolfram, and you may now judge if he 
is a counselor to be trusted. Since these plots were set in 
agitation, I have had nothing but hurried journeys, 
indigestions, blows and bruises, imprisonments, and star- 
vation ; besides that they can only end in the murder of 
some thousands of quiet folk. I tell you, I will be king 
in my own domains, and nowhere else ; and my first act 
of dominion shall lie to hang the Abbot,” 


318 


IVANHOE 


‘ ^ And my ward Eowena, ’ ’ said Cedric — ^ ‘ I trust you 
intend not to desert her ? ’ ’ 

Father Cedric,’’ said Athelstane, be reasonable. 
The Lady Rowena cares not for me ; she loves the little 
finger of my kinsman Wilfred’s glove better than my 
whole person. There she stands to avouch it. — Nay, 
blush not, kinswoman; there is no shame in loving a 
courtly knight better than a country franklin. Give me 
thy hand, or rather lend it me, for I but ask it in the 
way of friendship. Here, cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, 
in thy favor I renounce and abjure — Hey! by St. 
Dunstan, our cousin Wilfred hath vanished! ” 

All now looked around and inquired for Ivanhoe. It 
was at length discovered that a Jew had been to seek 
him ; and that, after very brief conference, he had called 
for Gurth and his armor, and had left the castle. 

Fair cousin,” said Athelstane to Rowena, could I 
think that this sudden disappearance of Ivanhoe was 
occasioned by other than the weightiest reason, I would 
myself resume — ” 

But he had no sooner let go her hand, on first observ- 
ing that Ivanhoe had disappeared, than Rowena, who had 
found her situation extremely embarrassing, had taken 
the first opportunity to escape from the apartment. 

Certainly,” quoth Athelstane, women are the least 
to be trusted of all animals, monks and abbots excepted. 
I am an infidel, if I expected not thanks from her, and 
perhaps a kiss to boot. These cursed grave-clothes have 
surely a spell on them, every one flies from me. — To 
you I turn, noble King Richard, with the vows of alle- 
giance, which, as a liege subject — ” 

But King Richard was gone also, and no one knew 
whither. At length it was learned that he had hastened 
to the court-yard, summoned to his presence the Jew who 


ATHELSTANB’S OBSEQUIES 


319 


had spoken with Ivanhoe, and, after a moment’s speech 
with him, had called vehemently to horse, thrown him- 
self upon a steed, compelled the Jew to mount another, 
and set off at a rate which, according to Wamba, rendered 
the old Jew’s neck not worth a penny’s purchase. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE LISTS OF TEMPLESTOWE 

The exterior of the Castle, or Preceptory, of Temple- 
stowe, about the hour when the bloody die was to be 
cast for the life or death of Rebecca, was a scene of 
bustle and life, as if the whole vicinity had poured forth 
its inhabitants to a village wake or rural feast. The eyes, 
therefore, of a very considerable multitude were bent on 
the gate of the Preceptory, with the purpose of witness- 
ing the procession; while still greater numbers had al- 
ready surrounded the tiltyard belonging to that estab- 
lishment. This inclosure was formed on a piece of level 
ground adjoining the Preceptory, which had been lev- 
eled with care, for the exercise of military and chival- 
rous sports. It occupied the brow of a soft and gentle 
eminence, and was amply supplied with galleries and 
benches. 

On the present occasion, a throne was erected for the 
Grand Master at the east end, surrounded with seats of 
distinction for the Preceptors and Knights of the Order. 

At the opposite end of the lists was a pile of faggots, 
so arranged around a stake, deeply fixed in the ground, 
as to leave a space for the victim whom they were des- 
tined to consume, to enter within the fatal circle, in 
order to be chained to the stake by the fetters which hung 
ready for that purpose. Beside this deadly apparatus 
stood four black slaves, whose color and African features, 
then so little known in England, appalled the multitude ; 

320 


THE LISTS OP TEMPLESTOWE 


321 


who could scarcely help believing that they w^ere actually 
the familiar spirits with whom the witch had communed, 
and who, her time being out, stood ready to assist in her 
dreadful punishment. They whispered to each other, 
and communicated all the feats which Satan had per- 
formed during that busy and unhappy period, not failing, 
of course, to give the devil rather more than his due. 

‘‘ Have you not heard, father Dennet,’’ quoth one boor 
to another advanced in years, ‘ ‘ that the devil has carried 
away bodily the great Saxon thane, Athelstane of Con- 
ingsburgh? ’’ 

‘ ‘ Aye, but he brought him back, though, by the bless- 
ing of God and St. Dunstan.’’ 

‘ ‘ How ’s that ? ’ ’ said a brisk young fellow, dressed in 
a green cassock embroidered with gold, and having at 
his heels a stout lad bearing a harp upon his back, which 
betrayed his vocation. How mean you by that? ’’ 
said the gay Minstrel, mingling in the conversation of the 
peasants; I came to seek one subject for my rhyme, 
and, by’r Lady, I were glad to find two.” 

Aye, aye — construe us the story,” said a burly 
Friar, who stood beside them leaning on a pole that ex- 
hibited an appearance between a pilgrim’s staff and a 
quarter-staff, and probably acted as either when occasion 
served — ^ ‘ your story, ’ ’ said the stalwart churchman. 

Burn not daylight about it; we have short time to 
spare.” 

An please your reverence,” said Dennet, ‘‘ a 
drunken priest came to visit the Sacristan at St. Ed- 
mund’s — ” 

It does not please my reverence,” answered the 
churchman, that there should be such an animal as a 
drunken priest, or if there were, that a layman should 
so speak him. ’ ’ 


322 


IVANHOE 


‘‘Well, then,’^ answered father Dennet, “a holy 
brother came to visit the Sacristan at St. Edmund’s — a 
sort of hedge-priest is the visitor, and kills half the deer 
that are stolen in the forest, who loves the tinkling of a 
pint-pot better than the sacring-bell, and deems a flitch 
of bacon worth ten of his breviary — ” 

“ But the story — the story, my friend,” again said 
the Minstrel. 

‘ ‘ Why, the tale is but this — Athelstane of Conings- 
burgh was buried at St. Edmund’s.” 

“ That’s a lie, and a loud one,” said the Friar, “ for I 
saw him borne to his own Castle of Coningsburgh. ” 

“ Nay, then, e’en tell the story yourself, my masters,” 
said Dennet; and it was with some difficulty that the 
boor could be prevailed on, by the request of his com- 
rade and the Minstrel, to renew his tale. “ These two 
solder friars,” said he at length, “ since this reverend 
man will needs have them such, had continued drinking 
good ale, and wine, and what not, for the best part of a 
summer’s day, when they were aroused by a deep groan, 
and a clanking of chains, and the figure of the deceased 
Athelstane entered the apartment, saying ‘ Ye evil 
shepherds — ! ’ ” 

“ It is false,” said the Friar, hastily, “ he never spoke 
a word.” 

“ So ho! Friar Tuck,” said the Minstrel, drawing him 
apart from the rustics ; “ we have started a new hare, I 
find.” 

“ I tell thee, Allan-a-Dale, ” said the hermit, “ I saw 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh as much as bodily eyes ever 
saw a living man. He had his shroud on, and all about 
him smelt of the sepulcher. A butt of sack will not 
wash it out of my memory. Never believe me, an I 
fetched not a knock at him with my quarter-staff that 


THE LISTS OP TEMPLESTOWE 


323 


would have felled an ox, and it glided through his body 
as it might through a pillar of smoke ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ By St. Hubert, ’ ’ said the Minstrel, ‘ ‘ but it is a won- 
drous tale, and fit to be put in meter to the ancient tune, 
‘ Sorrow came to the Old Friar. ^ 

Laugh, if ye list,’’ said Friar Tuck; but an ye 
catch me singing on such a theme may the next ghost 
or devil carry me off with him headlong ! No, no — I 
instantly formed the purpose of assisting at some good 
work, such as the burning of a witch, a judicial combat, 
or the like matter of godly service, and therefore am I 
here.” 

As they thus conversed, the heavy bell of the church 
of St. Michael of Templestowe broke short their argu- 
ment. One by one the sullen sounds fell successively on 
the ear, leaving but sufficient space for each to die away 
in distant echo, ere the air was again filled by repetition 
of the iron knell. These sounds, the signal of the ap- 
proaching ceremony, chilled with awe the hearts of the 
assembled multitude, whose eyes were now turned to the 
Preceptory, expecting the approach of the Grand Master, 
the champion, and the criminal. 

At length the drawbridge fell, the gates opened, and a 
knight, bearing the great standard of the Order, sallied 
from the castle, preceded by six trumpets, and followed 
by the Knights Preceptors, two and two, the Grand Mas- 
ter coming last, mounted on a stately horse. Behind him 
came Brian de Bois-Guilbert, armed cap-a-pie in bright 
armor, but without his lance, shield, and sword, which 
were borne by his two esquires behind him. His face, 
though partly hidden by a long plume which floated 
down from his barret-cap, bore a strong and mingled 
expression of passion, in which pride seemed to contend 
with irresolution. 


324 


IVANHOE 


On either side rode Conrade of Mont-Fitchet and Albert 
de Malvoisin, who acted as godfathers to the champion. 
They were in their robes of peace, the white dress of the 
Order. Behind them followed other companions of the 
Temple, with a long train of esquires and pages clad in 
black. After these neophytes came a guard of warders 
on foot, in the same sable livery, amidst whose partisans 
might be seen the pale form of the accused, moving 
with a slow but undismayed step towards the scene of her 
fate. She was stripped of all her ornaments, lest per- 
chance there should be among them some of those amulets 
which Satan was supposed to bestow upon his victims, 
to deprive them of the power of confession even when 
under the torture. A coarse white dress, of the simplest 
form, had been substituted for her Oriental garments; 
yet there was such an exquisite mixture of courage and 
resignation in her look that even in this garb, and with 
no other ornament than her long black tresses, each eye 
wept that looked upon her, and the most hardened bigot 
regretted the fate that had converted a creature so 
goodly into a vessel of wrath, and a wage slave of the 
devil. 

A crowd of inferior personages belonging to the Pre- 
ceptory followed the victim, all moving with the ut- 
most order, with arms folded and looks bent upon the 
ground. 

This slow procession moved up the gentle eminence, 
on the summit of which was the tiltyard, and, entering 
the lists, marched once around them. There was then a 
momentary bustle, while the Grand Master and all his 
attendants, excepting the champion and his godfathers, 
dismounted from their horses. 

The unfortunate Rebecca was conducted to the black 
chair placed near the pile. On her first glance at the 


THE LISTS OF TEMPLESTOWE 


325 


terrible spot where preparations were making for a death 
alike dismaying to the mind and painful to the body, she 
was observed to shudder and shut her eyes, praying inter- 
nally, doubtless, for her lips moved, though no speech 
was heard. In the space of a minute she opened her 
eyes, looked fixedly on the pile as if to familiarize her 
mind with the object, and then slowly and naturally 
turned away her head. 

Meanwhile, the Grand Master had assumed his seat; 
and when the chivalry of his Order was placed around 
and behind him, each in his due rank, a loud and long 
flourish of the trumpets announced that the court were 
seated for judgment. Malvoisin then, acting as god- 
father of the champion, stepped forward, and laid the 
glove of the Jewess, which w^as the pledge of battle, at 
the feet of the Grand Master. 

‘‘ Valorous lord and reverend father,’’ said he, here 
standeth the good knight, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Knight 
Preceptor of the Order of the Temple, who, by accepting 
the pledge of battle which I now lay at your reverence’s 
feet, hath become bound to do his devoir in combat this 
day, to maintain that this Jewish maiden, by name Re- 
becca, hath justly deserved the doom passed upon her in 
a chapter of this most Holy Order of the Temple of Zion, 
condemning her to die as a sorceress — here, I say, he 
standeth, such battle to do, knightly and honorable, if 
such be your noble and sanctified pleasure. ’ ’ 

Hath he made oath,” said the Grand Master, that 
his quarrel is just and honorable? Bring forward the 
crucifix. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Sir and most reverend father, ’ ’ answered Malvoisin, 
readily, ‘‘ our brother here present hath already sworn to 
the truth of his accusation in the hand of the good knight 
Conrade de Mont-Fitchet ; and otherwise he ought not to 
22 


326 


IVANHOE 


be sworn, seeing that his adversary is an unbeliever, and 
may take no oath. ’ ’ 

This explanation was satisfactory, to Albert's great 
joy ; for the wily knight had foreseen the great difficulty, 
or rather impossibility, of prevailing upon Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert to take such an oath before the assembly, 
and had invented this excuse to escape the necessity of 
his doing so. 

The Grand Master, having allowed the apology of 
Albert Malvoisin, commanded the herald to stand forth 
and do his duty. The trumpets then again flourished, 
and a herald, stepping forward, proclaimed aloud : 

Oyez, oyez, oyez. — Here standeth the good knight. Sir 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, ready to do battle with any 
knight of free blood who will sustain the quarrel allowed 
and allotted to the Jewess Eebecca, to try by champion, 
in respect of lawful excuse of her own body ; and to such 
champion the reverend and valorous Grand Master here 
present allows a fair field, and equal partition of sun and 
wind, and whatever else appertains to a fair combat." 
The trumpets again sounded, and there was a dead pause 
of many minutes. 

‘‘ No champion appears for the appellant," said the 
Grand Master. Go, herald, and ask her whether she 
expects any one to do battle for her in this her cause. ' ' 

The herald went to the chair in which Rebecca was 
seated; and Bois-Guilbert, suddenly turning his horse's 
head toward that end of the lists, in spite of hints on 
either side from Malvoisin and Mont-Pitchet, was by the 
side of Rebecca's chair as soon as the herald. 

Is this regular, and according to the law of com- 
bat? " said Malvoisin, looking at the Grand Master. 

Albert de Malvoisin, it is," answered Beaumanoir; 
‘‘ for in this appeal to the judgment of God we may not 


THE LISTS OP TEMPLESTOWE 


327 


prohibit parties from having that communication with 
each other which may best tend to bring forth the truth 
of the quarrel. ’ ’ 

In the meantime, the herald spoke to Rebecca in these 
terms : ‘ ‘ Damsel, the honorable and reverend the Grand 

Master demands of thee, if thou art prepared with a 
champion to do battle this day in thy behalf, or if thou 
dost yield thee as one justly condemned to a deserved 
doom? ’’ 

‘‘ Say to the Grand Master,’’ replied Rebecca, ‘‘ that I 
maintain my innocence, and do not yield me as justly 
condemned, lest I become guilty of mine own blood. Say 
to him, that I challenge such delay as his forms will 
permit, to see if God, whose opportunity is in man’s 
extremity, will raise me up a deliverer; and when such 
uttermost space is passed, may His holy will be done! ” 

The herald retired to carry this answer to the Grand 
Master. 

God forbid,” said Lucas Beaumanoir, that Jew or 
Pagan should impeach us of injustice 1 Until the shad- 
ows be cast from the west to the eastward, will we wait 
to see if a champion shall appear for this unfortunate 
woman. When the day is so far passed, let her prepare 
for death. ’ ’ 

The herald communicated the words of the Grand 
Master to Rebecca, who bowed her head submissively, 
folded her arms, and, looking up towards heaven, seemed 
to expect that aid from above which she could scarce 
promise herself from man. During this awful pause, 
the voice of Bois-Guilbert broke upon her ear; it was 
but a whisper, yet it startled her more than the summons 
of the herald had appeared to do. 

‘‘ Rebecca,” said the Templar, dost thou hear 
me? ” 


328 


IVANHOE 


I have no portion in thee, cruel, hard-hearted man,’’ 
said the unfortunate maiden. 

‘ ‘ Aye, but dost thou understand my words ? ’ ’ said the 
Templar; for the sound of my voice is frightful in 
mine own ears. I scarce know on what ground we stand, 
or for what purpose they have brought us hither. This 
listed space — that chair — these faggots — I know their 
purpose, and yet it appears to me like something unreal 
— the fearful picture of a vision, which appalls my 
sense with hideous fantasies, but convinces not my 
reason. ’ ’ 

‘‘ My mind and senses keep touch and time,” an- 
answered Rebecca, ‘ ‘ and tell me alike that these faggots 
are destined to consume my earthly body, and open a 
painful but a brief passage to a better world.” 

‘ ‘ Dreams, Rebecca — dreams, ’ ’ answered the Templar. 

Hear me, Rebecca,” he said, proceeding with anima- 
tion; a better chance hast thou for life and liberty 
than yonder knaves and dotard dream of. Mount thee 
behind me on my steed — on Zamor, the gallant horse 
that never failed his rider. I won him in single fight 
from the Soldan of Trebizond. Mount, I say, behind me ; 
in one short hour is pursuit and inquiry far behind — a 
new world of pleasure opens to thee — to me a new 
career of fame. Let them speak the doom which I de- 
spise, and erase the name of Bois-Guilbert from their 
list of monastic slaves! I will wash out with blood 
whatever blot they may dare to cast on my scutcheon. ’ ’ 
Tempter,” said Rebecca, begone! Not in this last 
extremity canst thou move me one hair’s-breadth from 
my resting-place. Surrounded as I am by foes, I hold 
thee as my worst and most deadly enemy; avoid thee, 
in the name of God ! ” 

Albert Malvoisin, alarmed and impatient at the 


THE LISTS OF TEMPLESTOWE 


329 


duration of their conference, now advanced to inter- 
rupt it. 

Hath the maiden acknowledged her guilt? ” he de- 
manded of Bois-Guilbert ; or is she resolute in her 
denial? ” 

She is indeed resolute/^ said Bois-Guilbert. 

Then,” said Malvoisin, ‘‘ must thou, noble brother, 
resume thy place to attend the issue. The shades are 
changing on the circle of the dial. — Come, brave Bois- 
Guilbert — come, thou hope of our Holy Order, and soon 
to be its head. ’ ’ 

As he spoke in this soothing tone, he laid his hand on 
the knight ^s bridle, as if to lead him back to his station. 

False villain! what meanest thou by thy hand on 
my rein ? ” said Sir Brian, angrily. And, shaking off his 
companion’s grasp, he rode back to the upper end of the 
lists. 

‘‘ There is yet spirit in him,” said Malvoisin apart to 
Mont-Fitchet, were it well directed ; but, like the Greek 
fire, it burns whatever approaches it.” 

The judges had now been two hours in the lists, await- 
ing in vain the appearance of a champion. 

And reason good,” said Friar Tuck, seeing she is a 
Jewess ; and yet, by mine Order, it is hard that so young 
and beautiful a creature should perish without one blow 
being struck in her behalf! Were she ten times a witch, 
provided she were but the least bit of a Christian, my 
quarter-staff should ring noon on the steel cap of yonder 
fierce Templar, ere he carried the matter off thus.” 

It was, however, the general belief that no one could 
or would appear for a Jewess accused of sorcery; and 
the knights, instigated by Malvoisin, whispered to each 
other that it was time to declare the pledge of Rebecca 
forfeited. At this instant a knight, urging his horse to 


330 


IVANHOE 


speed, appeared on the plain advancing towards the lists. 
A hundred voices exclaimed, ‘ ^ A champion ! — a cham- 
pion! ” And, despite the prepossessions and prejudices 
of the multitude, they shouted unanimously as the knight 
rode into the tiltyard. The second glance, however, 
served to destroy the hope that his timely arrival had 
excited. His horse, urged for many miles to its utmost 
speed, appeared to reel from fatigue, and the rider, how- 
ever undauntedly he presented himself in the lists, either 
from weakness, weariness, or both, seemed scarce able 
to support himself in the saddle. 

To the summons of the herald, who demanded his rank^ 
his name, and purpose, the stranger knight answered 
readily and boldly: I am a good knight and noble, 

come hither to sustain with lance and sword the just and 
lawful quarrel of this damsel, Eebecca, daughter of Isaac 
of York; to uphold the doom pronounced against her to 
be false and truthless, and to defy Sir Brian de Bois- 
Guilbert, as a traitor, murderer, and liar ; as I will prove 
in this field with my body against his, by the aid of God, 
of Our Lady, and of Monseigneur St. George, the good 
knight. ’ ’ 

‘‘ The stranger must first show,” said Malvoisin, ‘V that 
he is good knight, and of honorable lineage. The Tem- 
ple sendeth not forth her champions against nameless 
men.” 

My name,” said the knight, raising his helmet, ‘‘ is 
better known, my lineage more pure, Malvoisin, than 
thine own. I am Wilfred of Ivanhoe.” 

‘ ‘ I will not fight with thee at present, ’ ’ said the Tem- 
plar, in a changed and hollow voice. ‘‘ Get thy wounds 
healed, purvey thee a better horse, and it may be I will 
hold it worth my while to scourge out of thee this boyish 
spirit of bravado.” 


THE LISTS OF TEMPLESTOWE 


331 


Ha! proud Templar/’ said Ivanhoe, hast thou 
forgotten that twice thou didst fall before this lance? 
Kemember the lists at Acre — remember the Passage of 
Arms at Ashby — remember thy proud vaunt in the halls 
of Kotherwood, and the gage of your gold chain against 
my reliquary, that thou wouldst do battle with Wilfred 
of Ivanhoe, and recover the honor thou hadst lost 1 By 
that reliquary, and the holy relic it contains, I will pro- 
claim the^. Templar, a coward in every court in Europe 
— in every Preceptory of thine Order — unless thou do 
battle without farther delay. ’ ’ 

Bois-Guilbert turned his countenance irresolutely 
towards Eebecca, and then exclaimed, looking fiercely at 
Ivanhoe : ‘ ^ Dog of a Saxon ! take thy lance, and pre- 

pare for the death thou hast drawn upon thee 1 ” 

Does the Grand Master allow me the combat? ” said 
Ivanhoe. 

^ ^ I may not deny what thou hast challenged, ’ ’ said the 
Grand Master, provided the maiden accepts thee as her 
champion. Yet I would thou wert in better plight to do 
battle. An enemy of our Order hast thou ever been, yet 
would I have thee honorably met with. ’ ’ 

Thus — thus as I am, and not otherwise,’’ said Ivan- 
hoe; ‘‘it is the judgment of God — to his keeping I 
commend myself. Eebecca,” said he, riding up to the 
fatal chair, ‘ ‘ dost thou accept me for thy champion ? ’ ’ 
“ I do,” she said — “ I do,” fluttered by an emotion 
which the fear of death had been unable to produce — 
“ I do accept thee as the champion whom Heaven hath 
sent me. Yet, no — no — thy wounds are uncured — 
Meet not that proud man — why shouldst thou perish 
also? ” 

But Ivanhoe was already at his post, and had closed 
his visor, and assumed his lance. Bois-Guilbert did the 


332 


IVANHOE 


same ; and his esquire remarked, as he clasped his visor, 
that his face, which had, notwithstanding the variety of 
emotions by which he had been agitated, continued dur- 
ing the whole morning of an ashy paleness, was now 
become suddenly very much flushed. 

The herald then, seeing each champion in his place, 
uplifted his voice, repeating thrice: ‘‘ Do your duty, 
gallant knights ! ’ ’ After the third cry, he withdrew to 
one side of the lists, and again proclaimed that none, on 
peril of instant death, should dare, by word, cry, or action, 
to interfere with or disturb this fair fleld of combat. 
The Grand Master, who held in his hand the gage of 
battle, Rebecca’s glove, now threw it into the lists, and 
pronounced the fatal signal words, ‘‘ Let go! ” 

The trumpets sounded, and the knights charged each 
other in full career. The wearied horse of Ivanhoe, and 
its no less exhausted rider, went down, as all had ex- 
pected, before the well-aimed lance and vigorous steed of 
the Templar. This issue of the combat all had foreseen ; 
but although the spear of Ivanhoe did but, in comparison, 
touch the shield of Bois-Guilbert, that champion, to the 
astonishment of all who beheld it, reeled in his saddle, 
lost his stirrups, and fell in the lists. 

Ivanhoe, extricating himself from his fallen horse, was 
soon on foot, hastening to mend his fortune with his 
sword; but his antagonist arose not. Wilfred, placing 
his foot on his breast, and the sword’s point at his throat, 
commanded him to yield him, or die on the spot. Bois- 
Guilbert returned no answer. 

Slay him not. Sir Knight,” cried the Grand Master, 
‘ ^ unshriven and unabsolved — kill not body and soul ! 
We allow him vanquished.” 

He descended into the lists, and commanded them to 
imhelm the conquered champion. His eyes were closed ; 


THE LISTS OF TEMPLESTOWE 


333 


the dark red flush was still on his brow. As they looked 
on him in astonishment, the eyes opened ; but they were 
fixed and glazed. The flush passed from his brow, and 
gave way to the pallid hue of death. Unscathed by the 
lance of his enemy, he had died a victim to the violence 
of his own contending passions. 

This is indeed the judgment of God,’’ said the Grand 
Master, looking upwards — ‘‘ Thy will be done! ” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 

When the first moments of surprise were over, Wilfred 
of Ivanhoe demanded of the Grand Master, as judge of 
the field, if he had manfully and rightfully done his duty 
in the combat. 

Manfully and rightfully hath it been done,’’ said the 
Grand Master; I pronounce the maiden free and guilt- 
less. The arms and the body of the deceased knight are 
at the will of the victor. ’ ’ 

‘‘ I will not despoil him of his weapons,” said the 
Knight of Ivanhoe, nor condemn his corpse to shame 
— he hath fought for Christendom. God’s arm, no 
human hand, hath this day struck him down. But 
let his obsequies be private, as becomes those of a 
man who died in an unjust quarrel. — And for the 
maiden — ” 

He was interrupted by a clattering of horses’ feet, 
advancing in such numbers, and so rapidly, as to shake 
the ground before them; and the Black Knight gal- 
loped into the lists. He was followed by a numerous 
band of men-at-arms, and several knights in complete 
armor. 

‘‘lam too late,” he said, looking around him. “ I had 
doomed Bois-Guilbert for mine own property. — Ivanhoe, 
was this well, to take on thee such a venture, and thou 
scarce able to keep thy saddle ? ’ ’ 

“ Heaven, my Liege,” answered Ivanhoe, “ hath taken 

334 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


335 


this proud man for its victim. He was not to be honored 
in dying as your will had designed.’’ 

Peace be with him,” said Richard, looking stead- 
fastly on the corpse, if it may be so; he was a gallant 
knight, and has died in his steel harness full knightly. 
But we must waste no time — Bohun, do thine oflBce ! ’ ’ 

A knight stepped forward from the King’s attendants, 
and, laying his hand on the shoulder of Albert de Mal- 
voisin, said, ‘ ‘ I arrest thee of high treason. ’ ’ 

The Grand Master had hitherto stood astonished at 
the appearance of so many warriors. He now spoke. 

‘ ‘ Who dares to arrest a knight of the Temple of Zion, 
within the girth of his own Preceptory, and in the pres- 
ence of the Grand Master? and by whose authority is 
this bold outrage olBEered? ” 

I make the arrest,” replied the knight — I, Henry 
Bohun, Earl of Essex, Lord High Constable of 
England.” 

‘‘ And he arrests Malvoisin,” said the King, raising his 
visor, ‘ ‘ by the order of Richard Plantagenet, here pres- 
ent. Conrade Mont-Fitchet, it is well for thee thou art 
born no subject of mine. But for thee, Malvoisin, thou 
diest with thy brother Philip, ere the world be a week 
older.” 

I will resist thy doom,” said the Grand Master. 

Proud Templar,” said the King, ‘‘ thou canst not — 
look up, and behold the royal standard of England floats 
over thy towers instead of thy Temple banner ! Be wise, 
Beaumanoir, and make no bootless opposition. Thy hand 
is in the lion’s mouth.” 

‘‘ I will appeal to Rome against thee,” said the Grand 
Master, for usurpation on the immunities and privi- 
leges of our Order. ’ ’ 

Be it so,” said the King; but for thine own sake 


336 


IVANHOE 


tax me not with usurpation now. Dissolve thy Chapter, 
and depart with thy followers to thy next Preceptory, if 
thou canst find one which has not been made the scene 
of treasonable conspiracy against the King of England. 
— Or, if thou wilt, remain, to share our hospitality, and 
behold our justice.’’ 

To be a guest in the house where I should com- 
mand? ” said the Templar; never! — Chaplains, raise 
the Psalm, ‘ Why do the heathen rage? ’ Knights, 
squires, and followers of the Holy Temple, prepare to 
follow the banner of Beau-seant! ” 

The Grand Master spoke with a dignity which con- 
fronted even that of England’s King himself, and in- 
spired courage into his surprised and dismayed follow- 
ers. They gathered around him like the sheep around 
the watch-dog, when they hear the baying of the wolf. 
But they evinced not the timidity of the scared fiock; 
there were dark brows of defiance, and looks which 
menaced the hostility they dared not to proffer in words. 
They drew together in a dark line of spears, from which 
the white cloaks of the knights were visible among the 
dusky garments of their retainers. 

The Earl of Essex, when he beheld them pause in 
their assembled force, dashed the rowels into his 
charger’s sides, and galloped backwards and forwards to 
array his followers, in opposition to a band so formida- 
ble. Eichard alone, as if he loved the danger his pres- 
ence had provoked, rode slowly along the front of the 
Templars, calling aloud : ^ ‘ What, sirs ! Among so 
many gallant knights, will none dare to splinter a spear 
with Richard ? — Sirs of the Temple ! your ladies are 
but sunburned, if they are not worth the shiver of a 
broken lance ! ’ ’ 

The brethren of the Temple,” said the Grand Mas- 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


337 


ter, riding forward in advance of their body, ^ ‘ fight not 
on such idle and profane quarrel; and not with thee, 
Richard of England, shall a Templar cross lance in my 
presence. If unassailed, we depart assailing no one. 
To thine honor we refer the armor and household goods 
of the Order which we leave behind us, and on thy 
conscience we lay the scandal and offense thou hast this 
day given to Christendom. ’ ’ 

With these words, and without waiting a reply, the 
Grand Master gave the signal of departure. Their trum- 
pets sounded a wild march, of an Oriental character, 
which formed the usual signal for the Templars to ad- 
vance. They changed their array from a line to a 
column of march, and moved off as slowly as their horses 
could step, as if to show it was only the will of their 
Grand Master, and ho fear of the opposing and superior 
force, which compelled them to withdraw. 

By the splendor of Our Lady’s brow! ” said King 
Richard, “it is pity of their lives that these Templars 
are not so trusty as they are disciplined and valiant. ’ ’ 

The multitude, like a timid cur which waits to bark 
till the object of its challenge has turned his back, raised 
a feeble shout as the rear of the squadron left the ground. 

During the tumult which attended the retreat of the 
Templars, Rebecca saw and heard nothing; she was 
locked in the arms of her aged father, giddy, and almost 
senseless, with the rapid change of circumstances around 
her. But one word from Isaac at length recalled her 
scattered feelings. 

‘ ‘ Let us go, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ^ my dear daughter, my recov- 
ered treasure — let us go to throw ourselves at the feet 
of the good youth.” 

“Not so,” said Rebecca. “Oh no — no — no! I 
must not at this moment dare to speak to him. Alas! 


338 


IVANHOE 


I should say more than — No, my father, let us in- 
stantly leave this evil place. 

‘‘ But, my daughter,” said Isaac, to leave him who 
hath come forth like a strong man with his spear and 
shield, holding his life as nothing, so he might redeem 
thy captivity; and thou, too, the daughter of a people 
strange unto him and his — this is service to be thank- 
fully acknowledged. ’ ’ 

“ It is — it is — most thankfully — most devoutly ac- 
knowledged,” said Rebecca; it shall be still more so — 
but not now — for the sake of thy beloved Rachel, father, 
grant my request — not now ! ’ ’ 

Nay, but,” said Isaac, insisting, they will deem 
us more thankless than mere dogs ! ’ ^ 

‘‘ But thou seest, my dear father, that King Richard 
is in presence, and that — ” 

“ True, my best — my wisest Rebecca. Let us hence 
— let us hence! Money he will lack, for he has just 
returned from Palestine, and, as they say, from prison ; 
and pretext for exacting it, should he need any, may 
arise out of my simple traffic with his brother John. 
Away — away, let us hence ! ” 

And hurrying his daughter in his turn, he conducted 
her from the lists, and, by means of conveyance which 
he had provided, transported her safely to the house of 
the Rabbi Nathan. 

The Jewess, whose fortunes had formed the principal 
interest of the day, having now retired unobserved, the 
attention of the populace was transferred to the Black 
Knight. They now filled the air with ‘‘ Long life to 
Richard with the Lion’s Heart, and down with the usurp- 
ing Templars 1 ’ ’ 

Notwithstanding all this lip-loyalty,” said Ivanhoe 
to the Earl of Essex, it was well the King took the 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


339 


precaution to bring thee with him, noble Earl, and so 
' many of thy trusty followers. ’ ^ 

The Earl smiled and shook his head. 

‘ ‘ Gallant Ivanhoe, ’ ’ said Essex, ‘ ‘ dost thou know our 
master so well, and yet suspect him of taking so wise 
a precaution? I was drawing towards York, having 
heard that Prince John was making head there, when I 
met King Richard, like a true knight-errant, galloping 
hither to achieve in his own person this adventure of 
the Templar and the Jewess, with his own single arm. 
I accompanied him with my band, almost in spite of his 
consent.’’ 

And what news from York, brave Earl? ” said Ivan- 
hoe ; ‘ ‘ will the rebels bide us there ? ’ ’ 

‘‘No more than December's snow will bide July’s 
sun,” said the Earl; “they are dispersing; and who 
should come posting to bring us the news, but John him- 
self ! ” 

“ The traitor! — the ungrateful, insolent traitor! ” 
said Ivanhoe; “ did not Richard order him into confine- 
ment? ” 

“ Oh! he received him,” answered the Earl, “as if 
they had met after a hmiting party ; and, pointing to me 
and our men-at-arms, said, ‘ Thou seest, brother, I have 
some angry men with me; thou wert best go to our 
mother, carry her my duteous affection, and abide with 
her until men’s minds are pacified.’ ” 

‘ ‘ And this was all he said ? ’ ’ inquired Ivanhoe ; 
“ would not any one say that this prince invites men 
to treason by his clemency? ” 

“ Just,” replied the Earl, “ as the man may be said 
to invite death who undertakes to fight a combat, having 
a dangerous wound unhealed.” 

“ I forgive thee the jest. Lord Earl,” said Ivanhoe; 


340 


IVANHOE 


‘ ‘ but, remember, I hazarded but my own life — Richard, 
the welfare of his kingdom. ’ ’ 

Those,’’ replied Essex, ‘‘ who are specially careless 
of their own welfare are seldom remarkably attentive to 
that of others — But let us haste to the castle, for Rich- 
ard meditates punishing some of the subordinate mem- 
bers of the conspiracy, though he has pardoned their 
principal.” 

From the judicial investigations which followed on 
this occasion, it appears that Maurice de Bracy escaped 
beyond seas, and went into the service of Philip of 
France, while Philip de Malvoisin and his brother Al- 
bert, the Preceptor of Templestowe, were executed, al- 
though Waldemar Fitzurse, the soul of the conspiracy, 
escaped with banishment, and Prince John, for whose 
behoof it was undertaken, was not even censured by his 
good-natured brother. No one, however, pitied the fate 
of the two Malvoisins, who only suffered the death which 
they had both well deserved, by many acts of falsehood, 
cruelty, and oppression. 

Briefly after the judicial combat, Cedric the Saxon 
was summoned to the court of Richard, which, for the 
purpose of quieting the counties that had been disturbed 
by the ambition of his brother, was then held at York. 
Cedric tushed and pshawed more than once at the mes- 
sage — but he refused not obedience. In fact, the return 
of Richard had quenched every hope that he had enter- 
tained of restoring a Saxon dynasty in England. 

Moreover, it could not escape even Cedric’s reluctant 
observation, that his project for an absolute union 
among the Saxons, by the marriage of Rowena and 
Athelstane, was now completely at an end, by the mutual 
dissent of both parties concerned. Even the natural 
obstinacy of Cedric sunk beneath these obstacles, where 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


341 


he, remaining on the point of junction, had the task 
of dragging a reluctant pair up to it, one with each 
hand. 

There remained betwixt Cedric and the determination 
which the lovers desired to come to, only two obstacles 
— his own obstinacy, and his dislike of the Norman 
dynasty. The former feeling gradually gave way be- 
fore the endearments of his ward and the pride which 
he could not help nourishing in the fame of his son. Be- 
sides, he was not insensible to the honor of allying bis 
own line to that of Alfred, when the superior claims of 
the descendant of Edward the Confessor were aban- 
doned for ever. Cedric’s aversion to the Norman race 
of kings was also much undermined — first, by consid- 
eration of the impossibility of ridding England of the 
new dynasty, and, secondly, by the personal attention of 
King Richard, who delighted in the blunt humor of 
Cedric, and so dealt with the noble Saxon that, ere 
he had been a guest at court for seven days, he had 
given his consent to the marriage of his ward and his 
son. 

The nuptials of our hero, thus formally approved by 
his father, were celebrated in the most august of temples, 
the noble minster of York. The King himself attended, 
and, from the countenance which he afforded on this and 
other occasions to the distressed and hitherto degraded 
Saxons, gave them a safer and more certain prospect of 
attaining their just rights than they could reasonably 
hope from the precarious chance of a civil war. 

Gurth, gallantly appareled, attended as esquire upon 
his young master, whom he had served so faithfully, 
and the magnanimous Wamba, decorated with a new cap 
and a most gorgeous set of silver bells. Sharers of 
Wilfred ’s dangers and adversity, they remained, as they 
23 


IVANHOE 


•342 

had a right to expect, the partakers of his more pros- 
perous career. 

It was upon the second morning after this happy 
bridal that the Lady Rowena was made acquainted by 
her handmaid Elgitha, that a damsel desired admission 
to her presence, and solicited that their parley might be 
without witness. Rowena wondered, hesitated, became 
curious, and ended by commanding the damsel to be ad- 
mitted, and her attendants to withdraw. 

She entered — a noble and commanding figure, the 
long white veil in which she was shrouded overshadow- 
ing rather than concealing the elegance and majesty of 
her shape. Rowena was ever ready to acknowledge the 
claims, and attend to the feelings, of others. She arose, 
and would have conducted her lovely visitor to a seat; 
but the stranger looked at Elgitha, and again intimated 
a wish to discourse with the Lady Rowena alone. Elgitha 
had no sooner retired with unwilling steps, than, to the 
surprise of the Lady of Ivanhoe, her fair visitant kneeled 
on one knee, pressed her hands to her forehead, and 
bending her head to the ground, in spite of Rowena ’s 
resistance, kissed the embroidered hem of her tunic. 

‘ ‘ What means this, lady ? ’ ^ said the surprised bride ; 
‘‘ or why do you offer me a deference so unusual ? ’’ 

Because to you. Lady of Ivanhoe,’’ said Rebecca, 
rising up and resuming the usual quiet dignity of her 
manner, I may lawfully and without rebuke pay the 
debt of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of Ivanhoe. 
I am — forgive the boldness which has offered to you 
the homage of my country — I am the unhappy Jewess 
for whom your husband hazarded his life against such 
fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe. ’ ’ 

Damsel,” said Rowena, Wilfred of Ivanhoe on 
that day rendered b^ck but in slight measure your 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


341 


unceasing charity towards him in his wounds and mis- 
fortunes. Speak, is there aught remains in which he 
or I can serve thee ? ’ ’ 

Nothing,'’ said Rebecca, calmly, “ unless you will 
transmit to him my grateful farewell." 

‘‘ You leave England, then? " said Rowena, scarcely 
recovering the surprise of this extraordinary visit. 

I leave it, lady, ere this moon again changes. My 
father hath a brother high in favor with Mohammed 
Boabdil, King of Grenada — thither we go, secure of 
peace and protection for the payment of such ransom 
as the Moslem exact from our people." 

And are you not then as well protected in Eng- 
land? " said Rowena. My husband has favor with 
the King; the King himself is just and generous." 

‘‘ Lady," said Rebecca, “ I doubt it not; but the peo- 
ple of England are a fierce race, quarreling ever with 
their neighbors or among themselves, and ready to plunge 
the sword into the bowels of each other. Such is no safe 
abode for the children of my people. Not in a land of 
war and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbors, and dis- 
tracted by internal factions, can Israel hope to rest dur- 
ing her wanderings. ' ' 

But you, maiden," said Rowena — ‘‘ you surely can 
have nothing to fear. She who nursed the sick-bed of 
Ivanhoe," she continued, rising with enthusiasm, 
she can have nothing to fear in England, where 
Saxon and Norman will contend who shall most do her 
honor. ' ' 

Thy speech is fair, lady," said Rebecca, ‘‘ and thy 
purpose fairer ; but it may not be — there is a gulf be- 
twixt us. Our breeding, our faith, alike forbid either 
to pass over it. Farewell — yet, ere I go, indulge me 
one request. The bridal veil hangs over thy face ; deign 


344 


IVANHOE 


to raise it, and let me see the features of which fame 
speaks so highly. ^ ’ 

‘‘ They are scarce worthy of being looked upon/’ said 
Rowena; ‘‘ but, expecting the same from my visitant, I 
remove the veil.” She took it off accordingly; and, 
partly from the consciousness of beauty, partly from 
bashfulness, she blushed so intensely that cheek, brow, 
neck and bosom were suffused with crimson. Rebecca 
blushed also; but it was a momentary feeling, and, mas- 
tered by higher emotions, passed slowly from her features 
like the crimson cloud which changes color when the 
sun sinks beneath the horizon. 

‘ ‘ Lady, ’ ’ she said, ‘ ‘ the countenance you have deigned 
to show me will long dwell in my remembrance. There 
reigns in it gentleness and goodness. Long, long will 
I remember your features, and bless God that I leave my 
noble deliverer united with — ” 

She stopped short — her eyes filled with tears. She 
hastily wiped them, and answered to the anxious in- 
quiries of Rowena : ‘ ‘ I am well, lady — well. But my 

heart swells when I think of Torquilstone and the lists 
of Templestowe. — Farewell. One, the most trifling, part 
of my duty remains undischarged. Accept this casket 
— startle not at its contents. ’ ’ 

Rowena opened the small silver-chased casket, and per- 
ceived a carcanet, or necklace, with ear jewels of dia- 
monds, which were obviously of immense value. 

‘‘It is impossible,” she said, tendering back the 
casket. “ I dare not accept a gift of such consequence.” 

“Yet keep it, lady,” returned Rebecca. “You have 
power, rank, command, influence; we have wealth, the 
source both of our strength and weakness; the value of 
these toys, ten times multiplied, would not influence half 
so much as your slightest wish. To you, therefore, the 


REBECCA AND ROWENA 


345 


gift is of little value ; and to me, Xvhat I part with is of 
much less. Let me not think you deem so wretchedly 
ill of my nation as your commons believe. Think ye that 
I prize these sparkling fragments of stone above my 
liberty ? Accept them, lady — to me they are valueless. 
I will never wear jewels more.’’ 

‘‘ You are then unhappy! ” said Rowena, struck with 
the manner in which Rebecca uttered the last words. 
‘ ‘ Oh, remain with us ; the counsel of holy men will wean 
you from your erring law, and I will be a sister to 
you.” 

No, lady,” answered Rebecca, the same calm melan- 
choly reigning in her soft voice and beautiful features — 
“ that may not be. I may not change the faith of my 
fathers like a garment unsuited to the climate in which 
I seek to dwell; and unhappy, lady, I will not be. He 
to whom I dedicate my future life will be my comforter, 
if I do His will.” 

Have you then convents, to one of which you mean 
to retire? ” asked Rowena. 

No, lady,” said the Jewess; but among our peo- 
ple, since the time of Abraham downwards, have been 
women who have devoted their thoughts to Heaven, and 
their actions to works of kindness to men — tending the 
sick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the distressed. 
Among these will Rebecca be numbered. Say this to 
thy lord, should he chance to inquire after the fate of 
her whose life he saved.” 

There was an involuntary tremor in Rebecca’s voice, 
and a tenderness of accent, which perhaps betrayed more 
than she would willingly have expressed. She hastened 
to bid Rowena adieu. 

‘‘ Farewell,” she said. ‘‘ May He who made both 
Jew and Christian shower down on you His choicest 


346 


IVANHOE 


blessings ! The bark that wafts us hence will be under 
weigh ere we can reach the port. ’ ’ 

She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena sur- 
prised as if a .vision had passed before her. The fair 
Saxon related the singular conference to her husband, 
on whose mind it made a deep impression. He lived long 
and happily with Rowena, for they were attached to each 
other by the bonds of early affection, and they loved each 
other the more from the recollection of the obstacles 
which had impeded their union. Yet it would be inquir- 
ing too curiously to ask whether the recollection of 
Rebecca’s beauty and magnanimity did not recur to his 
mind more frequently than the fair descendant of Alfred 
might altogether have approved. 

Ivanhoe distinguished himself in the service of Rich- 
ard, and was graced with farther marks of the royal 
favor. He might have risen still higher but for the 
premature death of the heroic Coeur-de-I ion, before the 
Castle of Chaluz, near Limoges. With the life of a 
generous, but rash and romantic, monarch, perished all 
the projects w^hich his ambition and his generosity had 
formed; to whom may be applied, with a slight altera- 
tion, the lines composed by Johnson for Charles of 
Sweden — 

His fate was destined to a foreign strand, 

A petty fortress and an ‘ ‘ humble ’ ’ hand ; 

He left the name at which the world grew pale, 

To point a moral, or adorn a tale. 


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